The saga of our drain continues. Yesterday morning i called the city utilities service desk first thing, eager to resolve our plumbing problems after they'd been closed for the New Year's holiday since December 30. They agreed to send a plumber right over to assess the situation, so i left Arlene to deal wtih them while i returned to work. Arlene called me around 9:30am to tell me the guy had arrived, and she had related to him the findings of the Rescue Rooter technician. He apparently immediately scoffed, claiming they didn't know what they were talking about and just wanted my money. Without doing anything, he pronounced that our drain was fine. Arlene had to coax him into having a look, which only reinforced his already made-up mind. After much debate Arlene convinced him to agree to have a city plumber come out with a camera snake to repeat and either confirm or deny Rescue Rooter's investigation. I finally got in touch with the guy who schedules those this morning, and he tells me that we're 15th on the list and should be serviced in 2-3 weeks. Great. Assuming that inspection validates the previous diagnosis of a broken drain line, we'll then see how long it takes for them to come dig up the street and replace the pipe. Looks like we're doing laundry at my parents for a while. On the up side, the city plumber did locate the clean out line in our front yard, so we could leave that open and just have the drain back up into the yard. Although that may be a bit gross for any poor soul who wanders by.

I was called a redneck over the holidays, not without some irony. Alan had lined up a row of excess garbage bags along our hedge for collection, not knowing that our garbage service won't pick up anything unless it's in our garbage can. So they were out there for a few days. Our yard is also a bit of mess of leaves after the recent storms. I had just let Tara outside when a friend of our neighbor parked his truck and hopped out. Tara did her usual "run to the fence and bark furiously" routine, which prompted me to open the front door and yell at her to come inside. As the visitors walked over to my neighbor's house, i heard one of them remark "yeah, that's those rednecks next door". I was immediately incensed, but then realized the scene seemed to bear out that conclusion. However, these guys were visiting someone with a Harley Davidson plaque on his garage and a collection of lanterns on his porch, so this may be a pot and kettle situation.

I tivoed and watched a few good old movies over the last few days of my holiday. First was the original 1968 screen version of Mel Brooks's the Producers. It wasn't as side-splittingly hilarious as i'd hoped, but it was definitely a good flick. The inimitable Gene Wilder is priceless as the exceedingly neurotic Leo Bloom. Remakes of movies with Gene Wilder seem doomed to fail in my mind ... Johnny Depp didn't approach the subtle wit of Wilder as Willy Wonka, while i can't imagine the tepid Matthew Broderick doing justice to Wilder's Bloom. I also watched the 1947 adventure epic Sinbad the Sailor, featuring Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and a very young and very hot Maureen O'Hara. The story is quite interesting and distinct from other Sinbad renditions, depicting the swashbuckler as a devious charlatan who backs into adventure through a series of cons. Definitely worthwhile.

Ana and Arlene head back to Iowa this afternoon, saying goodbye after a final family dinner last night at Betelnut in SF with George, Lynda, Jessi, Naomi, and Geoff. As much as the little demon (an accusation she roundly rejected the other day) can push my buttons, i'll miss the energy she injects into our lives. Although i think Tara may be anxious to lessen the amount of poking and prodding she's been receiving, even with the corresponding decrease in people food that comes her way.