Speak of the Devil

Yesterday, the house heard my praise. I thought about the repercussions of listing the reasons why the house is awesome. Call it what you will: jinxing, Murphy's Law or self-fulfilling prophecy. It's as if the house could hear me say, "Hmmm. I better not praise you too much, awesome house, something bad might happen." Today the furnace broke.

David did some troubleshooting at 6 AM before heading to work and was unsuccessful getting the thing to turn on. Neither of us has ever lived in a house with the furnace/heating/thermostat set-up so David called a repairman. Then I realized I was going to have to let a stranger into the house to fix the heater.

I hate waiting for repairmen and sitting around while they work. Not because I have important places to be. But as a young female it goes against everything I've been taught about protecting myself. Don't let strangers in the house. Especially, when home alone. I feel like I should have some heavy, blunt object at hand at all times. If the repairman comments on my habit of carrying around a hammer, I'll say, "I'm from California. WE'RE CRAZY! We elected the Terminator for our governor and passed legislation that mandates commercial livestock have enough room to stand and turn in their cages before they're slaughtered!"

I spent most of the morning in bed, staying warm, as the temperature in the house registered about 40. Not drastically cold but not pleasant. I got out of bed when the repairman called to tell me he was on his way, bundled up and got a crash course in our furnace.

Moments like these I am upfront about my So-Cal bred ignorance about the ways of living in winter. I told the repairman, "I don't know how to drive in snow/heat a home/shoot a deer. I'm from California. Southern California". This gets me insider tips on how to live in Ohio. Like this tip: run water if you are going to turn the heater off at night (like we do because the heater kicking on wakes me up) so the pipes don't freeze and then burst.

The minute he said that about a thousand light bulbs turned on in my head. Last night while battling insomnia I kept hearing thuds, cracks, snaps and noises I had never heard before. I wondered if something in the house was freezing but what I couldn't say or how to go about finding out and remedying the situation were all beyond my knowledge. Yes, I have lived in cold weather before. But not like this and I was five. I have vague memories of adults talking about bursting pipes. When David turned the heater on and no heat came my fear was something vital had frozen. How will we know if the pipes burst? What if the pipes have already broken and as I type gallons of water are pooling under the house? And why is it when I call David, in a moment of true panic, he just says he'll take care of it when he gets home?

Good News: The repairman is fixing the furnace as I type. Our furnace was manufactured near-by so the part he needed was available. The furnace is old and the repair is routine. Basically, the motor was going to go out eventually. It just happened to break when the newspaper reported the coldest weather is coming our way. He fixed one problem but now there is another. Repairman just told me he needs another part. Hopefully, this one is on his truck. It's not. Back out he goes.

That's part of the bad news. Also, this is going to cost a chunk of cash. But what choice do we have? We can't stay in a house without heat. Also, David didn't call the landlord first to tell her the furnace broke and see if it was okay for him to call someone. She might have someone already under contract. So negotiations on who and how much costs are going to be covered have not been discussed. Our landlord seems reasonable and she may be fine with what we have done or she might be angry. I'm letting David handle that bit. We both need to learn how to live on our own. I got the furnace lesson and he can have the landlord lesson. As soon as we get our degree in "living as responsible adults in a cold climate" I'm taking my enlightened self back to California.


The cost of not freezing to death.

20 things I love about this House

We moved from the apartment to the rental months ago but I never got around to posting a list of what I love about living in this house. I've never been a Susie Sunshine but everyday I thank God or whatever brought us to this rental even if it is in Ohio.


1. The working oven.
2. The microwave.
3. A kitchen big enough for two people to stand in at the same time.
4. The clean bathroom void of shady ceiling tiles.
5. A bathtub that looks like it has been cleaned in the last 5 years.
6. Dry carpet.
7. No mold or mildew eating away at my clothes.
8. Forced air heating.
9. Conveniently located within walking distance of the library and grocery store.
10. Ceiling fans.
11. Trees.
12. The backyard.
13. Natural light via windows.
14. The garage.
15. Mailbox is big enough to fit our mail.
16. The layout is eerily similar to the house I grew up in So-Cal.
17. Washer and dryer.
18. The previous owners/landlords maintained the house.
19. The previous owners/landlords are great.
20. The neighbors are pretty much awesome.

A Very Special Christmas Edition of "This Midwestern Life"

The perfect gift for the Christmas connoisseur in your life! You've certainly heard of it though few have ever seen or tasted it. Available in Midwestern grocery stores everywhere! The myth, the legend... shrink-wrapped and ready for immediate consumption!









Merry Christmas!

Names Have Been Changed to Protect the Innocent

Over the weekend, when every state but us was getting dumped on with snow, I changed the title of the blog. The URL is not changing but "I'd be safe and warm if I was in L.A..." became Ohiofornia.

I never really liked the original title of the blog. It was too long, didn't look right and I never liked how L.A. could be misinterpreted to mean Louisiana. At the inception of the blog, The Mamas & The Papas lyric was the first thing that popped into my head. I knew using such a popular song lyric would get me a lot of visits when dropped into a search engine. Deep down inside I knew "I'd be safe..." was a working title. I didn't want to spend the time thinking of a new one like an Emo kid trying to get the perfect hair flip. I did what I always do and said, "Meh. Whatever." and moved on. Then one day David said I was begging to get sued. Quotation marks or no quotation marks.

What does this mean for the blog? Absolutely nothing. You can put the tissues and cheesecake away. There is no need to mourn. Okay, tissues can go, cheesecake can stay. The content of the blog is not changing. I'm still me, you're still you and cheesecake is still a perfect food.

I like the way the word Ohiofornia looks but that's about it. In a few months the title might change again. Who knows? The Internet makes it easy to change things up yet keep them the same. Questions? Concerns? Bored? The comment button is always there kind of like the local 24 hour liquor store.

This Midwestern Life

The first few months I spent here in Ohio I kept a secret from the people I met. Granted, I didn't meet many people because I refused to leave the house. I didn't tell anyone I met that I am Mexican. Mexican-American to be precise: more American than Mexican. My parents and grandparents were born in the US. Still, Mexican is a dirty word around here and since I wasn't carrying a shovel and waiting outside the Home Depot for work I confused the hell out of the people I told.

"But...But you don't look Mexican and you don't have a Mexican first name." Usually, I'm not offended when people are confused. I use the opportunity to clarify misinformation and misconceptions. One thing that bothers me about living in the Midwest is not being able to find Mexican food products .

No chorizo and no pan dulce. No Ibarra chocolate, no tamarind candy and no little corner burrito shack. I have never seen a sno-cone truck and they call chicharrones pork rinds. I can't get cinnamon sticks for arroz con leche and I can't get masa for tamales. Not that it matters because I was always absent from the tamale making tutorials at my Nina's. But still, I can't even try because I can't get the ingredients. I can't get good tortillas. I can't get corn tortillas and for the longest time I couldn't even get good refried beans.

Behold, the Midwestern can of refried beans:



I'm surprised they don't call them Fiesta Arriba Arriba beans and have a picture of a sombrero-wearing donkey. To make matters worse they taste like chili beans. WTF. Can a girl get some Rosarita beans or Ortega? And don't try to sell me that Goya stuff! For the last time, I am Mexican, not Spanish. Goya specializes in Hispanic and South American food. Has the whole world gone crazy? Are Mexicans not the fastest growing ethnicity? Or am I just in the Midwest?

A Book Review: Blogging for Bliss

While poking around our little library by the lake I found Tara Frey's book, Blogging for Bliss: Crafting Your Own Online Journal: A Guide for Crafters, Artists & Creatives of all Kinds. I turned the book around in my hand, flipped through it and hesitated which should have told me that this book wasn't for me. But it said "Creatives of all Kinds" in the title so I said, "What the hell. Why not?" and shoved it under all the chick-lit in my book bag.

A red flag popped up in the first chapter in a section about finding an audience: "Keep in mind that creative blog readers come to your journal to escape, so it can be disappointing or uncomfortable for them when they see political rants, religious overtones, or foul language, If you want that type of blog, you may be in the wrong neighborhood." Uh-oh. Political rants? Check. Religious overtones? Check. Foul language? Definitely. Not only am I not in the same neighborhood as these "creative blogs", I'm not even on the same planet. However, I forged ahead determined to finish a book I started.

Tara Frey writes,"Photos can make or break a creative, blissful blog. When I polled readers on my own site, 91 percent of them said they would rather see a photo that doesn't match the post than no photo at all. What does this mean for your own site? Simply that when you post, the curtains don't have to match the couch." Let's apply this, shall we?



Why did I post a picture of a sink of dirty dishes? Well, Tara said ya'll would want to see a picture even if it had nothing to do with my post. Somehow, I don't think that is what she meant and if she was next to me right now she would smack me upside the head with a wooden spoon tied with grosgrain ribbon and say, "Post a picture of something pretty or artsy, you silly, billy goosey-goose!" Then, like Glinda the Good Witch, she would get in a bubble and float back to her blog, where kittens play with yarn and pies cool on window sills. Let's try again, this time with more art and less snark.


Ahhh. Is that better? I thought so.

In between chapters there are profiles of bloggers. I stopped and checked some of these out and was given further proof I was in the wrong zip code. These women all had hobbies and interests listed under their blog name. Hobbies like: quilting, sewing, gardening and the all-encompassing crafting. None of which I do because I have just enough skill and patience to complete a paint-by-number. Then the author asked them to list other blogs they read and wouldn't you know they all read each others blogs! None of them listed, What Would Tyler Durden Do?, Perez Hilton, Go Fug Yourself, Deadspin or Evil Beet Gossip. Which are the blogs I read and more evidence of my not belonging.

The author included a "Blog Speak" section where she lists commonly used Internet abbreviations. I am merrily going down the list when I see OMG which she explains is short for "Oh my gosh". WTF, OMG is short for "Oh my God" not "Oh my gosh". Whatever, moving on to ROTFLOL, "rolling on the floor laughing out loud"? Well, it would be really odd if you rolled on the floor quietly because then someone might think you are having a seizure. SOL is "smiling out loud" not "shit out of luck" like I have been led to believe all my life. My personal fave WTF, "what the fuck", didn't even make the list. What you just read is one of the author's pet peeves, "Don't make mom wash your mouth out with soap. Foul language on a creative blog is a bad, bad thing. I was really surprised at how frequently this occurs. Because creative blogs are so visual, this is really like seeing profane graffiti spray-painted on your driveway. Not cool." Now, I have established that I am not living on Creative Blogger Court, a cul-de-sac in the suburbs or a country cottage in Connecticut, I also do not radiate goodness and light. How could this book possibly be for me?

Well, it does explain simple HTML, (I could have used that info last week when the Rhett & Link Video didn't want to embed instead of bugging my informal editor Tom.) tips on taking photographs and properly posting them, how to run a business from your blog and has a section on blogging platforms. Also, included are several helpful glossaries. The book is full of beautiful, glossy pictures that would make Martha Stewart and Mary Engelbreit cry. As a very pretty beginner's guide it serves it's purpose well. So well, in fact, that I passed the title along to a friend who wanted to start her own blog but wasn't sure where to start. It's just like Tara says, "For those who blog for bliss, it's a need for personal expression and a passion for sharing their lives or crafts that drives their blogs. Although they receive no monetary gain, these bloggers will tell you that the satisfaction of giving, sharing and inspiring others is priceless." My friend was inspired by my cynical blog to start her own. While I may not be "blogging for bliss", just being a plain ol' blogging bitch, I did inspire one person and isn't that more important when all is said and done?

Walking in a Winter Wear Wonderland

Moving to Ohio in the Spring gave me more than enough time to prepare for the winter. I had a running list of questions about winter wear. What fabrics are the warmest for a coat? Wool is warm but it can get smelly if it gets wet and is never properly cleaned. How should it fit? When purchasing a coat I had to consider how active I might be outside. Walking to the house from the car was easy but what about longer walks in parking lots? I figured flat boots are better than heeled if you do a lot of walking. The boots must come over your ankle so snow can't get in and cause loss of toes. Hats are important but they cause hat hair so I bought a coat with a hood because I am vain. What do you do with your wet and cold coat when you go shopping? to a restaurant? How do you dress for a business casual job AND the cold? You know when you get to your desk the heat is going to be cranked way the hell up and you are going to slowly roast in your clothes. Over the summer most of my questions were answered by friends but I still had some lurking in the back of my brain.

About a week ago the awesome online store Modcloth (well, they were awesome until they started selling ugly holiday sweaters for $25 in their vintage section. You know the kind that end up at the Goodwill after Grandma dies and her children realize it is not 1988. The kind hipsters wear to "Ugly Sweater Parties". I hate them. Hipsters and ugly sweaters.) posted a little web video about how to dress stylishly but still stay warm during the bleak winter months when you are sure the sun is never going to shine again. Maybe this Modcloth video would answer some of my questions so I could stop asking the people around me and they could have some quiet for once. I kept in mind that the video was also an advertisement for (the sometimes pricey) products in their store but was still excited to hear what they had to say. As a California girl I take all the advice I can get about how to dress in the winter.

Like the winter wear spreads in my fave magazines and online articles this video was a disappointment. The host only touched the tip of the iceberg on coats, hats, layering and wearing "colorful and fun accessories". The host was a former South Floridian now living in Pittsburgh and that was the only advice she had? She never discussed boots or how to wear a dress in the cold. (I'll never wear a dress in the winter because I hate tights. Tights are for little girls. They don't mind when the crotch of their tights migrates toward their knees. Little girls also don't mind having the circulation to their mid-sections cut off because they don't have mid-sections.) The host mentioned how excited she was to finally wear mittens and scarves. Look, lady, I love fashion just as much as the next girl but bundling up is a major pain in the ass. I don't care if a whole other world of fashion is open to me now, I hate it. I like the freedom warm weather gives me to just throw on a light sweater and some flimsy shoes and head out. Late for work? No problem. Just roll out of bed, roll around on your floor and BAM! you are dressed for work. Late for work in Ohio? CRAP! WHERE IS MY (expletive deleted) SCARF!? I CAN'T WEAR THESE BOOTS THEY HAVE A HEEL! I WILL SLIP ON A PATCH OF ICE AND CRACK MY HEAD OPEN! I don't like being inconvenienced and dressing so I don't die of cold is an inconvenience. However, death is a major inconvenience so I'll just stick to bundling up.


Semi-unrelated side note: Speaking of fashion freedom. There is a repeat fashion freedom offender in our midst and her name is Lady Gaga. I have seen enough of that girl's crotch and ass to last me a lifetime. You know who else likes to walk around sans pants? Toddlers. But you don't see anyone offering them the cover of V. I just realized the words "crotch" and "ass" appeared numerous times in this blog. That is all.

This Midwestern Life

In California we call this game Beanbag Toss and it's commonly played by children at birthday parties. When I moved to Ohio and someone asked me if I wanted to play Cornhole I said, "Excuse me? You want me to what?".

No one and I mean no one explains the game of Cornhole better than Rhett & Link. A photograph would have not done the mighty game of Cornhole justice. You need to see the game in action.






Fun Fact: The North Ridgeville, Ohio Corn Festival has a Cornhole Tournament. However, the Cornhole Tournament is not a North Ridgeville Corn Festival Committee, Inc. sponsored event.

This Midwestern Life

New segment time! YAY! To break up the monotony of my endless snark and whining. DOUBLE YAY!

Every Friday (if I can remember) I will post a picture of something Midwestern. I should have been doing this from day one because now I have a mental back log of pictures I should have taken. This is going to cause major trouble in my marriage because David has a difficult time already dragging me away from stores and keeping me from the shoe department. Now he is going to have to drag me away from photographing roadkill and trying not to make more roadkill when I inevitably scream, "STOP THE CAR! I SO HAVE TO GET THAT FOR MY BLOG!" So for now I will stick with some very tame material and I will work up from there. Okay.



Sloppy Joe Mix. One of the ultimate comfort foods and a staple in the Midwestern home. Excellent on wheat hamburger buns or Triscuits. Sometimes we forgo eating Sloppy Joe mix with a grain and just eat it straight out of the skillet with a spoon.

Rewind

I am very behind on posting. I've been busy actually living life that I haven't had time to blog. When I say, "living life", I mean sitting around playing Farmville and whining to David about him refusing to buy me a $15 dollar, black and pink, reversible Le Tigre Puffer Vest on clearance at JC Penney. The vest was marked down from $50! How can we pass that deal up? I am going to get that vest.

Anyway, so Halloween came and went and so did Thanksgiving and in between those two holidays we had our first house guests. David's oldest brother and his girlfriend came to visit us for, like, two days.

Halloween was uneventful. We didn't go anywhere or dress-up. We did hand out candy and had tons left over. That might have been because we over bought or because the county designates trick-or-treating times for each community. Our town had a two hour slot on 10/31. A town a few miles away had to trick-or-treat the Thursday before Halloween. How this works is beyond me. Do the cops give you a ticket for being out past the designated time? I understand that it is safer to designate a time but it just seems odd. Also, odd was that no one was knocking on our door to get candy until David and I sat out on the porch with the stuff. We had our porch light on and our pumpkin out but no kids. The neighbors were all sitting on their porches so I guess, if it is not snowing, you sit on the porch and hand out candy.

Then my brother-in-law and his girlfriend stayed with us and we had lots of fun. David and I baked a lasagna, I made brownies and I went on a cleaning spree to prepare for their visit that made David hate me. They didn't visit for very long but we squeezed a lot into that short time. Like staring at Lake Erie and driving through our town which takes five minutes.

Thanksgiving was also uneventful. David bought a 20 pound turkey for $5. We planned on roasting that sucker and eating for a month. It took a long time to thaw. Even after sticking it in the bathtub (the only place it would fit) filled with cold water. The turkey wasn't done until 11 at night but that was okay because it was just us eating. After the turkey roasting and carving hoopla was over the kitchen was a mess. My OCD flared and I spent days cleaning turkey off the walls and being angry. You see David and I have very different cooking and cleaning methods.

I picked up a nasty habit while working at Stables & Grand Booksellers called, "working clean". Whenever we started a project we were told to: "Work Clean." I know when I cook I am, inevitably, going to make a mess so I work in such a way that minimizes the clean-up job after. Mainly, I don't cook anything that requires more than a bowl, spoon and saucepan. If I can eat without using utensils (bananas are a great example) and if I can eat over the sink, even better. David also knows that when he cooks he is going to make a mess. Instead of trying to reduce the mess he makes he makes even more of a mess. Different logic is at work here. David figures he is going to have to clean anyway so why not just go crazy. But more often I am the one cleaning the kitchen because David's idea of cleaning is flawed. The boy has no eye for detail. "What? The floor is gritty with turkey grease and pepper dust? I got rice all over the stove? Where? Where are all the wadded up paper towels, food scraps and lids to condiment jars?" If David wanted to live in a frat house he should have stayed in college. David would just say I have a serious problem and an unrealistic view of how clean the house should be. But it's not like he is going to pay to get me help and I don't mean a maid, I mean a therapist. So I guess he is stuck with me and a clean house. Whatever, he can buy me that vest and I would probably be nice enough let him roll around in dirt for a week.