It's election run off night here in the Dirty Dirty. It appears to be a tight race between Mary Norwood (my candidate, I'll represent here) and Kasim Reed, with Reed checking in at 51% and Norwood clocking a none too shabby 49%. But we probably won't know until the morning. To be perfectly honest, while I've been a hardcore Norwood supporter (she was the at-large council member who actually got Westview speed humps and and cross walks) either would be a competent mayor. Both has extensive experience in the political theater, with roots that sit deep in the city. I would be proud to have either represent our us.
On the job front, we had an interesting evening at the Big A with Second City. It seems that a cadre of drunken jackasses sat themselves right down at a down front cocktail table and proceeded to chat (read: loudly) amongst themselves. Not cute. Distracting. So much so, that our company called them out, embarrassingly so. When a cast member walks up to you and tells you to "Shut the fuck up or go the fuck home", you are probably only embarrassing yourself and being disruptive to the rest of the audience. You are also being disrespectful and distracting to the cast. The three of them left, tails between their legs, causing yet another disruption as they made their getaway during the "Sugar Plumb Fairy" scene. Thankfully before the 40ish wanna be cougar in their group puked or passed out. Yeah y'all. Y'all are real cool. You had already been warned by house management, then by stage management, so don't get pissed off when an improv group calls you out for being a bunch of assholes.
World AIDS day, what a misnomer. It sounds like we should celebrate AIDS. How about we call it "Let's Find a Cure for this Wretched Disease that has Taken So Many of My Loved Ones". While it is an issue that is ALWAYS at the forefront of my mind, I have to say I spent much time today remembering so many friends and some family that have been lost to this dreadful disease, not the least of which is my sweet, sweet Daddy. In fact, in the past few weeks, my mind has wandered about him. What would he be like today? Would he be proud of me? Would he like my house, my job, my cats? How I regret that he can't sit and visit with me around my kitchen table with a cup of coffee and his always present Kool Milds. Personally, I think that brand of cigarettes stink, but what I wouldn't give to have him here with me, stinking up my kitchen with his ghetto-ass cigarettes. He'd be no help whatsoever in any repairs I needed (he wasn't that kind of guy), but he'd damn sure help me decorate my Christmas tree, and chide me all the way for having a silk tree and not a real one. He could make a kick ass cafe au lait, killer meatloaf, and show you how to clean your shotgun all in one day. And then shame you for not knowing enough about Middle Eastern politics, Southern literature, and obscure playwrights. In the summers, he often sported a seersucker suit with a bow tie (that he tied himself, not one of those pre-fab thingies) and in the winter it was Levi's, cowboy boots and a lambskin jacket that he'd owned for twenty years. I still have that jacket, and sometimes wear it. It's quite warm. He loved to travel, so I think he would be happy that I've bounced all over Europe, spent three weeks in the Turkish Republic, and am headed to Egypt and Jordan next summer. I always have thought about him when I traveled, and am sure that I will this summer. A true Renaissance man, he is sorely missed.
But he would have been no help whatsoever yesterday. Since I am still existing upon the kindness of space heaters, I decided to spend yesterday morning with the BF in my basement, checking out my furnace. I really want to make sure that my furnace itself is in good working order before I call Atlanta Gas Light to hook my gas, so that I don't have a massive explosion when I attempt to light my furnace for the first time. Lesson number one: It's freaking cold in my basement. With a lot of weird shit that's been discarded down there. I did, however, find a lovely milk glass vase that I will keep. Not so much with the discarded cookware. Who the hell throws pots and pans away in a basement? Lesson number two: Furnaces aren't really that complicated once you figure out how they work. We got the central fan working again and discovered that the intake duct for the unit had become detached. I reattached it (fairly easy) and then we explored the rest of the duct work. Fortunately, I'm blessed with crawlspaces that are tall enough that grown men can stand up in them, so this was not an uncomfortable task. The only discrepancy we found was a rather large piece of ductwork that had become detached from the floor vent in the back bedroom, probably when the copper theives stole my service lines from the AC. Not too hard to repair. Some duct tape and a hose clamp next Monday and I'll be on my way to living in a fully heated home.
I am a sucker for the holidays. While I didn't do too much for Thanksgiving (the BF and I grilled some steaks), I do love holiday decorations. My name is Holly and I was supposed to be born on December 24, so I guess it only follows. I also own 2.4 million dollars worth of Christmas decorations that I've never been able to use all at once, due to the fact that I've always inhabited small apartments. Not so anymore! I have a huge mantle that is now draped with garland, the Christmas tree is up (undecorated yet) in the dining room, and various and sundry wreaths and appointments are distributed proudly. I have to say, this is a home that lends itself to the Holidays. I'm hoping to have a holiday cocktails get together a week from Monday, provided that I can whip this place into habitable shape.
Hope to see you at the cocktail party.
