Bothered

But definitely not hot.

I’ve been trying to fix this problem with my bank and a statement I’m supposed to be able to access online, except that they made it impossible to do so when they deleted the account (which was closed earlier this month).  I should point out that they emailed me AFTER the account had been closed to tell me that the statement was there.

I figured they could just mail me a copy.  To my house.  The street address of which they have on file.  So I messaged them through my account’s message center and got a response back a couple of days later saying that they aren’t able to deal with those kinds of issues online.

Really, what kind of issues CAN they deal with online?  I’ve already had to go in once this month to close that account.  This online banking is supposed to make my life EASIER, not more complicated.  Plus I have to talk to a banker every time and they feel compelled to try to upsell me on all kinds of crap that I don’t want.

So, I may have screamed a lot internally, because I have a headache now.  I didn’t even know how to respond to this.  Finally I wrote back, “That’s ridiculous.”  Because it is.

Partof the reason I’m furious is that as a librarian, I would bend over backwards (and have!) to help someone resolve something like this.  And they could totally send me an email to initiate the process.

I detest you, bank.  And I have for a long time.  Moving on.

Phoebe and Her Unicorn

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This book was brought to my attention the other day.  Since I have a fair amount of experience with unicorns (and loving them), I was intrigued.  Also, the unicorn’s name is Marigold Heavenly Nostrils.  NOSTRILS.  Yes.  So, you see why I had to read it.

One of the things I do as an adult now that I NEVER did as a kid or a teenager is read things like author bios, forewords, footnotes, endnotes, whatever.  It’s like all the special features that come with DVDs except in BOOKS (I almost never bother with special features).  The introduction to the first volume in this series (there are 3 books right now) is written by Peter S. Beagle – you know, the guy who wrote “The Last Unicorn.”  And he loves it.

Here’s what he says:

“I would dearly love to claim at least some connection to the origins of Marigold Heavenly Nostrils, the innocently arrogant unicorn who preens so charmingly through Dana Simpson’s delightful comic strip bearing her name.  And perhaps I can.  Scholarly articles have been written, after all, about the fact that prior to my 1968 novel The Last Unicorn there were no female unicorns to be found in any of the world’s varied mythologies.  And in the early pages of that book I did write, ‘Unicorns are immortal.  It is their nature to live alone in one place: usually a forest where there is a pool clear enough for them to see themselves – for they are a little vain, knowing themselves to be the most beautiful creatures in all the world, and magic besides…’

“A little vain…Marigold would be an appalling monster of ego, utterly self-concerned and completely unlikable, if it weren’t for her sense of humor and her occasional surprising capacity for compassion – both crucial attributes when bound by a wish granted to a nine-year-old girl in need of a Best Friend to play invented superhero games with, to introduce to slumber parties and girl-talk gossip and to ride through the wind after being called nerd and Princess Stupidbutt one time too many.  For Phoebe is a remarkably real little girl, as bright and imaginative as Bill Watterson’s Calvin, as touchingly vulnerable as Charles Schulz’s Charlie Brown.  And if these strike you as big names to conjure with, I’ll go further and state for the record that in my opinion Phoebe and Her Unicorn is nothing less than the best comic strip to come along since Calvin and Hobbes.  Simpson is that good, and that original…”

And you should read the rest of this for yourself.  And the whole book.  Because it’s high praise to compare it to Calvin and Hobbes and you know you want to find out if that’s true.

 

New Diet – Courtesy of Adventure

So I finally unpacked my scale and weighed myself.  THAT was traumatic.  I did some internal wailing and whimpering and then moved on.  I started a DIET this past weekend – not any of the popular fad diets, but one where I just pay attention to what I eat and track the hell out of it.  And exercise, yes.  I was doing that, but I think the foot pain got in the way a bit, and also the eating like I am still on my warm weather biking schedule did me in.  FUEL.  FUEL FOR BIKING.

I came up with a name for it this morning – “The Don’t Crush the Tiny Icelandic Horses Diet.”  Since that’s part of the goal.  I sincerely hope not to crush their little backs and tiny hopes.  Do Icelandic horses have tiny hopes?  I hear my traveling partner has started something similar.  We will be like clouds of happiness upon their backs.  Right?

I had my second riding lesson this week.  Copenhagen was my noble steed (again).  He did not buck me off, so there’s that.  😉  My instructor revealed that when she first asked him to canter he bucked.  She didn’t come off, but he definitely had second thoughts about picking it up.  No cantering.  We may try it next time.  On a different horse.  But I said that last time, didn’t I?

We worked on a cloverleaf pattern.  Which I haven’t done before.  My instructor laid 4 poles out in a square in the middle of the riding ring and as we rode around the circular ring, I was supposed to have Copenhagen turn in at the center of each pole and then loop off to the left (or right, depending on which side we were working on), then come back in at the next pole.  It wasn’t so hard at a walk, but once we got trotting, we came up on those poles much faster than I’d anticipated.  In theory I grasped the concept, but in practice, I only asked my horse to turn in at every OTHER pole.

During our first pass at a trot, Copenhagen sort of tripped over a pole and kicked up some sand which hit a metal gate and made what must have been a Very Startling Noise, because he spooked and shot away from the noise.  Oh, silly horse.  I didn’t fall and I wasn’t scared, but I took it a little easy on him for a few passes after that to make sure he was ok with everything.  I kind of mucked up the exercise/pattern, but Copenhagen DID everything I asked him to do, so the pattern errors were all mine.  Good boy!

I’m considering making myself available as a volunteer in the future.  It would be nice to just be around horses, too.  And do all the horse chores and get to know them better instead of just in 30 minute pockets.  It’s hard to know/trust ANYONE in 30 minute increments.  It would be even better if I could trade volunteer hours for time in the saddle (that was an option when I was in school).

Whoops

I decided to update the music on my iPod this afternoon (which hasn’t seen that sort of update since I don’t know when).  It wasn’t set up to automatically sync anything because I’m just that kind of control freak…actually, I had to set it up to manage everything manually at some point so that I could download audiobooks from the library’s lending service.  No audiobooks currently checked out (also, I’m using my phone and the app for this now), so it seemed like a good time to add some new stuff.

As it turns out, it’s going to be all new stuff, because I lost all of my playlists (not realizing that they weren’t stored in this version of iTunes).  I had a tiny ARGH moment and then shrugged and decided, well, I’ve been listening to most of those songs for the past 2 years, so really, it was time to freshen up.  The tracks/music are all still in my library somewhere, but I have no idea what the exact lists were.  Not terrible, but a slight setback in my plan to have some music on while I whip up some soup in the kitchen.

I hate iTunes.

Positively balmy

The snow has gone all melty and drippy outside.  I can hear the droplets plinking off the gutters.  I assume that’s happening out there and not up in the attic somewhere.

It’s past my bedtime, and I should sleep, but I keep thinking about things and they’re turning into the sorts of Things that keep me awake.  When I have lots of questions and no answers, my brain gets super inventive.

So.  Now we sleep.  And have perplexing dreams that end up all shouty.