Something tells me that the women suing the Walmarts in Massachusetts to stock the morning after pill would sooner boycott the stores than get their prescriptions filled there. That's not the point, though, is it. Nor is fact that there are probably (and I'm being conservative in my estimates) at least three times as many CVSs (CVS carries this form of contraception) as Walmarts with pharmacies in Massachusetts. The point is that Walmart is evil, isn't it.
Now, I'm not a big Walmart shopper: have walked into one or two, but find them to be rather depressing inside. I don't think that they're the antichrist, it's just personal preference (I like Target better). When people start getting their panties in a bind over them and do crazy "activist" things like bringing up frivolous lawsuits, making up stories, etc, my tendency is to be more sympathetic towards the Walmarts. I also tend to think that those who are pulling the aforementioned shenanigans have way too much time on their hands (not to mention un-worked-through resentments towards their parents), and too little understanding of how the economy outside their boutique and organic food chainstore worlds work.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Do I detect a theme here?
Stained glass window at Napi's Restaurant on Freeman Street in Provincetown.
The Lobster Pot on Commercial Street. Sadly, it's closed whenever we visit. Might have to stop by sometime in the summer (ugh).
The makings of a ceramic bouillabaisse at a jewelry store on Commercial Street.
Stained glass window at Napi's Restaurant on Freeman Street in Provincetown.
The Lobster Pot on Commercial Street. Sadly, it's closed whenever we visit. Might have to stop by sometime in the summer (ugh).
The makings of a ceramic bouillabaisse at a jewelry store on Commercial Street.
My birthday present to me this year turned out to be a lithograph called "Sabbath Angels" by Chaim Gross. Caught a glimpse of it in an antique store and was immediately drawn in.
Though a great fan of his sculpture, I'm not too crazy about some of his painting or print work, as it strikes me as being a bit too...too...baroque, maybe? What pleased me about "Sabbath Angels" was the angularity, the play of light and shadow (are they angels or tree branches?), the colors, too. It really helped to have a watercolor of his on the same subject (called "Shabboth") with almost the same composition beneath the print.
Tourists by Chaim Gross
Mother and Daughter by Chaim Gross. Both of these sculptures used to be in front of the Provincetown Art Association Museum.
Anyhow, conditions were perfect: the mat and frame were suprisingly complementary, the price was right. I was willing to give up my birthday dinner for the angels. The Voice of Reason chimed in, however, and told me to wait until the following afternoon. If my print was still there, it was meant for me.
Glad I listened, as I ended up with both my favorite dinner (Ross Grille's Tuscan Cod with a bottle of Truro Vineyards Chardonnay) and the print.
Each year, we like to end our trip with a visit to Race Point Beach, at about the northernmost part of the National Seashore. There, I like to orient myself in order to send greetings to my friends across the Big Blue. Pictures are taken, weather permitting. This time around, the weather was more than permissive (no wind and about 50 degrees). It seemed more like mid spring than mid winter.
Ranger Station, Race Point Beach
View of the Pilgrim Monument, Provincetown, over the dunes
Of course, little things give away the fact that it's "off season." The lack of crowds, for one. Also, since the sun is at a smaller angle, longer shadows are cast:
(Isn't it great when Nature sets up her own natures mortes?)
Sometimes people like to get into the Environmental Art game and create:
Hal calls this one "Andy Goldsworthy for Lazy People."
My contribution: a little dance I like to call "Limbo for the Lazy and Not-So-Limber."
It's kind of humbling, though, to think that whatever efforts we make (whether to secure immortality or otherwise) are going to be dwarfed by Nature's random and fleeting movements:
Compass Grass
Still Life with Wet Rock
Sandflea's Eye View
Ranger Station, Race Point Beach
View of the Pilgrim Monument, Provincetown, over the dunes
Of course, little things give away the fact that it's "off season." The lack of crowds, for one. Also, since the sun is at a smaller angle, longer shadows are cast:
(Isn't it great when Nature sets up her own natures mortes?)
Sometimes people like to get into the Environmental Art game and create:
Hal calls this one "Andy Goldsworthy for Lazy People."
My contribution: a little dance I like to call "Limbo for the Lazy and Not-So-Limber."
It's kind of humbling, though, to think that whatever efforts we make (whether to secure immortality or otherwise) are going to be dwarfed by Nature's random and fleeting movements:
Compass Grass
Still Life with Wet Rock
Sandflea's Eye View
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
What am I doing now? Rereading The Little Book, working out again and eating cantaloupe. I'm tired of bloat, tired of superfluity. Need to pare things down.
Bumpersticker Two-fer:
The first one was on Sunday, heading back into town from a weekend retreat:
"I'm animal-friendly" (on either the back of a hybrid of some sort or a Volkswagon. Don't remember which.)
I added "and I'm bi-curious," which touched off one a really funny tirade from The Guy.
***
This morning on the walk to work, I saw one that said "Waldemort votes Republican."
Sigh. Immature is not cute. You're not whimsical, you're mental.
The first one was on Sunday, heading back into town from a weekend retreat:
"I'm animal-friendly" (on either the back of a hybrid of some sort or a Volkswagon. Don't remember which.)
I added "and I'm bi-curious," which touched off one a really funny tirade from The Guy.
***
This morning on the walk to work, I saw one that said "Waldemort votes Republican."
Sigh. Immature is not cute. You're not whimsical, you're mental.
"Whaddya think I am? Dumb or somethin'?
I'll have you know that I've got more money than Calvin Coolidge. Put together."
-Thanks, Mr. Trainspotter.
I'll have you know that I've got more money than Calvin Coolidge. Put together."
-Thanks, Mr. Trainspotter.
Friday, January 27, 2006
My trainspotter friend in London likes to keep me up on the latest developments in public transport in his hometown. Mentioned that the Tube had switched over to a refillable pass system that they call the Oyster Card. Interesting. Since I'm a rare bird, a bipedal commuter, I'm not always up on what the MBTA's up to. Did find out that we have a similar pass setup here. To further his efforts towards global public transport understanding, my friend compiled this list:
Boston > Charlie Card (Named after the Kingston Trio tune, of course)
London > Oyster Card
Hong Kong > Octopus
Manchester > Readycard
SmarTrip > Washington DC
Touch 'N Go > Malaysia
Though from an engineering standpoint he finds these passes pretty nifty, from a privacy point of view, they're a little unnerving as movements can be tracked (and attached to a name). This did strike me as a fair bit Big Brother-y.
Asked him if he knew anything about the bit transit strike in NYC last month. He didn't. He did send a little hint* that they've got similar problems (not all can be pinned on privatisation and the Thatcher, either) with the Underground.
*funny as all getout, but definitely not work safe, for the faint of heart, or for those not interested in quaint britishisms.
Boston > Charlie Card (Named after the Kingston Trio tune, of course)
London > Oyster Card
Hong Kong > Octopus
Manchester > Readycard
SmarTrip > Washington DC
Touch 'N Go > Malaysia
Though from an engineering standpoint he finds these passes pretty nifty, from a privacy point of view, they're a little unnerving as movements can be tracked (and attached to a name). This did strike me as a fair bit Big Brother-y.
Asked him if he knew anything about the bit transit strike in NYC last month. He didn't. He did send a little hint* that they've got similar problems (not all can be pinned on privatisation and the Thatcher, either) with the Underground.
*funny as all getout, but definitely not work safe, for the faint of heart, or for those not interested in quaint britishisms.
Song of the day, a happy memory and a bit of food p0rn.
Be and Luigi pulling mussels from a shell.
Have finally been getting around to sorting through gifts, etc that I got for Christmas. Found a CD chock-full o' pictures Deer Isle this summer. How funny to look back on just half a year ago and have it feel like five years have passed.
I'm always a fan of free food, so was overjoyed at the announcement that red tide wasn't a threat anymore on our bit of shore. Collected mussels and was doing the usual mariniere thing with them. Then along came Luigi - Italian exchange scholar and gourmet extraordinaire. One afternoon when the tide was low enough, we collected buckets of mussels, washed them, cooked them, shelled them, then did amazing things with olive oil, garlic, onions, sea salt. Served this delicious mess over linguine. Since the dish was an improvised creation, I named it Cozze al'Luigi.
Be and Luigi pulling mussels from a shell.
Have finally been getting around to sorting through gifts, etc that I got for Christmas. Found a CD chock-full o' pictures Deer Isle this summer. How funny to look back on just half a year ago and have it feel like five years have passed.
I'm always a fan of free food, so was overjoyed at the announcement that red tide wasn't a threat anymore on our bit of shore. Collected mussels and was doing the usual mariniere thing with them. Then along came Luigi - Italian exchange scholar and gourmet extraordinaire. One afternoon when the tide was low enough, we collected buckets of mussels, washed them, cooked them, shelled them, then did amazing things with olive oil, garlic, onions, sea salt. Served this delicious mess over linguine. Since the dish was an improvised creation, I named it Cozze al'Luigi.
I don't know the particulars of this case, but I really am not surprised at local blogger reaction.
After all, only people who are obviously ethnic and obviously female or feminine get discriminated against.
After all, only people who are obviously ethnic and obviously female or feminine get discriminated against.
Elgar Orgy on WHRB
Four days worth of his music, along with commentary. I know relatively little about him, to be honest. Certainly played the bejeezus out of Pomp and Circumstance #1 in high school(You want dull? Try keeping awake through the bass line in the opening movement.). In college, just sort of lumped him in with the Pastoralists (Delius, Vaughn-Williams, Finzi, etc) and left him at that.
So? I guess four days of All Elgar All the Time will be a learning experience for me. Always a good thing.
Four days worth of his music, along with commentary. I know relatively little about him, to be honest. Certainly played the bejeezus out of Pomp and Circumstance #1 in high school(You want dull? Try keeping awake through the bass line in the opening movement.). In college, just sort of lumped him in with the Pastoralists (Delius, Vaughn-Williams, Finzi, etc) and left him at that.
So? I guess four days of All Elgar All the Time will be a learning experience for me. Always a good thing.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Okay, I'm a sucker for these kinds of questionnaires - anything for family or friends. This one comes from ma cousine in Ithaca:
1. What time did you get up this morning? 7:00 am
2. Diamonds or Pearls? Pearls, absolutely. Nothing against diamonds, but I love pearls. Especially freshwater ones.
3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Geesh! The Life Aquatic at the cheapies in Davis Square.
4. What is your favorite TV show? Probably Nova. Reception's bad on Winter Hill and I'm too cheap to get cable.
5. What did you have for breakfast? A muffin, a banana and a small decaf from the convenience store next to my office
6. What is your middle name? Ann
7. What is your favorite cuisine? I'm pretty equal-opportunity when it comes to cuisine, which explains my constant 'battle of the bulge.' If you want me to narrow it down, well, I'd say that my favorite's between Eastern European and Asian.
8. What foods do you dislike? I used to say brussels sprouts, but had some really good ones recently (stir fried with bacon). The real issue is over cooking. I hate vegetables that are overcooked. Particularly brussels sprouts and broccoli when it's cooked to the point of smelling like farts.
9. What is your favorite Potato chip? Utz dill pickle flavor.
10. What is your favorite CD at the moment? Kate Bush's new one: Aerial. It's brilliant.
11. What kind of car (truck) do you drive? I don't have a car now. If I were to have one it'd be a Honda Civic like Speed Racer (Pablo's) or a Sephia like Hal's Kia Pet, though, if that means anything.
12. What is your favorite sandwich? 12 grain bread with a schmear of Hellman's mayo and Dijon mustard, lettuce, tomato, some sort of mild cheese like muenster, hard salami and/or ham. It's pretty healthy and good for breakfast, lunch or dinner.
13. Favorite item of clothing? My red plaid flannel PJ bottoms.
14. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would
you go? Either back to the French Alps or back to Rabat.
15. What color is your bathroom? Beige and white.
16. Favorite brand of clothing? Salvation Army Private Label
17. Where would you want to retire to? Western New York
18. Favorite time of day? Morning
19. Where were you born? Buffalo, NY
20. Favorite sport to watch on TV? Baseball
21. Who do you least expect to send this back? People I don't know who don't read this blog?
22. Person you expect to send it back first? No idea.
23. What type of detergent do you use? Whatever's on sale! (currently CVS brand)
24. Coke or Pepsi? DIET Coke
25. Are you a morning person or a night owl? Morning person
26. What size shoe do you wear? 10.5/11 US 42 EU
27. Do you have pets? 2 cats: Mamasan and Ampersand (who looks more like a badger than a cat now)
28. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with everyone? Well. I have plans to move back to Buffalo in the near future (at the end of the lease cycle, ¡Ojala!). With Hal.
29. What did you want to be when you were little? A translator for the UN or an astronomer.
30. Favorite candy bar? Plain Hershey's. Special Dark, if they make them bigger than the bite-sized version.
31. What is your best childhood memory? Time spent with Paula and Janice at their home, or with my cousins on the farm in Delevan, NY
32. Different jobs you've had in your life? Paperboy, office cleaner, library assistant, baker, discount store clerk, data entry clerk, music store salesperson, warehouse manager, cataloger for an antiquarian bookseller, translator, technical writer, tutor, secretary, bookkeeper, IT helpdesk assistant, HR representative, bureaucrat.
33. What color underwear are you wearing? Leopard-spotted.
34. Nicknames: Be, Bebere, La Beverlianna, La Buffalina del West, Brunhilde/The Valkyrie
35. Piercings? Ears: 2 & 2
36. Ever been to Africa? Yes
37. Ever been toilet papered? Can't say that I have.
38. Love someone so much it made you cry? Good Lord, yes.
39. Ever been in a car accident? Yep. Wasn't my fault, either.
40. Croutons or bacon bits? Croutons
41. Favorite day of the week? Saturday
42. Favorite restaurant? Hmm: Tu y Yo by the Powderhouse Rotary, Wang's in Magoun, Pho Pasteur in Chinatown, Addis Red Sea in the South End, Casa Portugal in Inman Square, Kelly's on Reveah Beach, The Paddock (Honey), on Meh-fuh Street.
43. Favorite flower? Daisies and beach roses.
44. Favorite ice cream? Sweet Cream, Christina's Khulfi, Burnt Sugar.
45. Disney or Warner Brothers? Warner Brothers, absolutely!
46. Favorite fast food restaurant? Wendy's
47. What color is your bedroom carpet? Nyah...I have hardwood floors!
48. How many times did your fail you drivers test? None
49. Before this one, from whom did you get your last email? Sad to say, but Spam.
50. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card? Am not really into retail therapy, to be honest. If I had to choose something, I guess it would be Schoenhof's foreign books in Harvard Square and maybe the place in NYC that sells all the Marimekko stuff.
51. What do you most often do when you are bored? I really don't get bored. Pastimes, though, are blogging, knitting, playing the piano, listening to music, among other things.
52. Who are you most curious about their responses to this
questionnaire? Everyone!
53. Last person you went to dinner with? Pablo and Hacksaw at Wang's.
54. Ford or Chevy? I really like that new Mustang.
55. How many tattoos do you have? One - on my right shoulder.
56. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Good Lord! The egg!
57. How many people are you sending this survey to? I look at these things in terms of Quality, not Quantity.
1. What time did you get up this morning? 7:00 am
2. Diamonds or Pearls? Pearls, absolutely. Nothing against diamonds, but I love pearls. Especially freshwater ones.
3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Geesh! The Life Aquatic at the cheapies in Davis Square.
4. What is your favorite TV show? Probably Nova. Reception's bad on Winter Hill and I'm too cheap to get cable.
5. What did you have for breakfast? A muffin, a banana and a small decaf from the convenience store next to my office
6. What is your middle name? Ann
7. What is your favorite cuisine? I'm pretty equal-opportunity when it comes to cuisine, which explains my constant 'battle of the bulge.' If you want me to narrow it down, well, I'd say that my favorite's between Eastern European and Asian.
8. What foods do you dislike? I used to say brussels sprouts, but had some really good ones recently (stir fried with bacon). The real issue is over cooking. I hate vegetables that are overcooked. Particularly brussels sprouts and broccoli when it's cooked to the point of smelling like farts.
9. What is your favorite Potato chip? Utz dill pickle flavor.
10. What is your favorite CD at the moment? Kate Bush's new one: Aerial. It's brilliant.
11. What kind of car (truck) do you drive? I don't have a car now. If I were to have one it'd be a Honda Civic like Speed Racer (Pablo's) or a Sephia like Hal's Kia Pet, though, if that means anything.
12. What is your favorite sandwich? 12 grain bread with a schmear of Hellman's mayo and Dijon mustard, lettuce, tomato, some sort of mild cheese like muenster, hard salami and/or ham. It's pretty healthy and good for breakfast, lunch or dinner.
13. Favorite item of clothing? My red plaid flannel PJ bottoms.
14. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would
you go? Either back to the French Alps or back to Rabat.
15. What color is your bathroom? Beige and white.
16. Favorite brand of clothing? Salvation Army Private Label
17. Where would you want to retire to? Western New York
18. Favorite time of day? Morning
19. Where were you born? Buffalo, NY
20. Favorite sport to watch on TV? Baseball
21. Who do you least expect to send this back? People I don't know who don't read this blog?
22. Person you expect to send it back first? No idea.
23. What type of detergent do you use? Whatever's on sale! (currently CVS brand)
24. Coke or Pepsi? DIET Coke
25. Are you a morning person or a night owl? Morning person
26. What size shoe do you wear? 10.5/11 US 42 EU
27. Do you have pets? 2 cats: Mamasan and Ampersand (who looks more like a badger than a cat now)
28. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with everyone? Well. I have plans to move back to Buffalo in the near future (at the end of the lease cycle, ¡Ojala!). With Hal.
29. What did you want to be when you were little? A translator for the UN or an astronomer.
30. Favorite candy bar? Plain Hershey's. Special Dark, if they make them bigger than the bite-sized version.
31. What is your best childhood memory? Time spent with Paula and Janice at their home, or with my cousins on the farm in Delevan, NY
32. Different jobs you've had in your life? Paperboy, office cleaner, library assistant, baker, discount store clerk, data entry clerk, music store salesperson, warehouse manager, cataloger for an antiquarian bookseller, translator, technical writer, tutor, secretary, bookkeeper, IT helpdesk assistant, HR representative, bureaucrat.
33. What color underwear are you wearing? Leopard-spotted.
34. Nicknames: Be, Bebere, La Beverlianna, La Buffalina del West, Brunhilde/The Valkyrie
35. Piercings? Ears: 2 & 2
36. Ever been to Africa? Yes
37. Ever been toilet papered? Can't say that I have.
38. Love someone so much it made you cry? Good Lord, yes.
39. Ever been in a car accident? Yep. Wasn't my fault, either.
40. Croutons or bacon bits? Croutons
41. Favorite day of the week? Saturday
42. Favorite restaurant? Hmm: Tu y Yo by the Powderhouse Rotary, Wang's in Magoun, Pho Pasteur in Chinatown, Addis Red Sea in the South End, Casa Portugal in Inman Square, Kelly's on Reveah Beach, The Paddock (Honey), on Meh-fuh Street.
43. Favorite flower? Daisies and beach roses.
44. Favorite ice cream? Sweet Cream, Christina's Khulfi, Burnt Sugar.
45. Disney or Warner Brothers? Warner Brothers, absolutely!
46. Favorite fast food restaurant? Wendy's
47. What color is your bedroom carpet? Nyah...I have hardwood floors!
48. How many times did your fail you drivers test? None
49. Before this one, from whom did you get your last email? Sad to say, but Spam.
50. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card? Am not really into retail therapy, to be honest. If I had to choose something, I guess it would be Schoenhof's foreign books in Harvard Square and maybe the place in NYC that sells all the Marimekko stuff.
51. What do you most often do when you are bored? I really don't get bored. Pastimes, though, are blogging, knitting, playing the piano, listening to music, among other things.
52. Who are you most curious about their responses to this
questionnaire? Everyone!
53. Last person you went to dinner with? Pablo and Hacksaw at Wang's.
54. Ford or Chevy? I really like that new Mustang.
55. How many tattoos do you have? One - on my right shoulder.
56. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Good Lord! The egg!
57. How many people are you sending this survey to? I look at these things in terms of Quality, not Quantity.
Hommage to Kronos
L'Horloge
Horloge! dieu sinistre, effrayant, impassible,
Dont le doigt nous menace et nous dit: «Souviens-toi!
Les vibrantes Douleurs dans ton coeur plein d'effroi Se planteront bientôt comme dans une cible;
Le Plaisir vaporeux fuira vers l'horizon
Ainsi qu'une sylphide au fond de la coulisse;
Chaque instant te dévore un morceau du délice
À chaque homme accordé pour toute sa saison.
Trois mille six cents fois par heure, la Seconde
Chuchote: Souviens-toi! — Rapide, avec sa voix
D'insecte, Maintenant dit: Je suis Autrefois,
Et j'ai pompé ta vie avec ma trompe immonde!
Remember! Souviens-toi! prodigue! Esto memor!
(Mon gosier de métal parle toutes les langues.)
Les minutes, mortel folâtre, sont des gangues
Qu'il ne faut pas lâcher sans en extraire l'or!
Souviens-toi que le Temps est un joueur avide
Qui gagne sans tricher, à tout coup! c'est la loi.
Le jour décroît; la nuit augmente; Souviens-toi!
Le gouffre a toujours soif; la clepsydre se vide.
Tantôt sonnera l'heure où le divin Hasard,
Où l'auguste Vertu, ton épouse encor vierge,
Où le Repentir même (oh! la dernière auberge!),
Où tout te dira Meurs, vieux lâche! il est trop tard!»
-Charles Baudelaire
The upside of this whole thing is, at the rate they're going, Kronos may well eat themselves and we won't have to worry about them anymore. That would be very nice.
L'Horloge
Horloge! dieu sinistre, effrayant, impassible,Dont le doigt nous menace et nous dit: «Souviens-toi!
Les vibrantes Douleurs dans ton coeur plein d'effroi Se planteront bientôt comme dans une cible;
Le Plaisir vaporeux fuira vers l'horizon
Ainsi qu'une sylphide au fond de la coulisse;
Chaque instant te dévore un morceau du délice
À chaque homme accordé pour toute sa saison.
Trois mille six cents fois par heure, la SecondeChuchote: Souviens-toi! — Rapide, avec sa voix
D'insecte, Maintenant dit: Je suis Autrefois,
Et j'ai pompé ta vie avec ma trompe immonde!
Remember! Souviens-toi! prodigue! Esto memor!
(Mon gosier de métal parle toutes les langues.)
Les minutes, mortel folâtre, sont des gangues
Qu'il ne faut pas lâcher sans en extraire l'or!
Souviens-toi que le Temps est un joueur avideQui gagne sans tricher, à tout coup! c'est la loi.
Le jour décroît; la nuit augmente; Souviens-toi!
Le gouffre a toujours soif; la clepsydre se vide.
Tantôt sonnera l'heure où le divin Hasard,
Où l'auguste Vertu, ton épouse encor vierge,
Où le Repentir même (oh! la dernière auberge!),
Où tout te dira Meurs, vieux lâche! il est trop tard!»
-Charles Baudelaire
The upside of this whole thing is, at the rate they're going, Kronos may well eat themselves and we won't have to worry about them anymore. That would be very nice.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Wszystkiego Najlepszego, Gram!
If Grandma Zee were still around, she'd be 93 - two months older than Grandpa (got teased a bit for being a "cradle robber" because of that, too). She passed away five years ago, though. I honestly believe that Grandpa headed out when he did because he missed her and felt badly for missing the past few birthday parties for her. Also needed to look into that bum leg of his and get it up to snuff in time for festivities.
I like to think that they polkaed up a storm today, just like I'd heard of them doing back in the day.
If Grandma Zee were still around, she'd be 93 - two months older than Grandpa (got teased a bit for being a "cradle robber" because of that, too). She passed away five years ago, though. I honestly believe that Grandpa headed out when he did because he missed her and felt badly for missing the past few birthday parties for her. Also needed to look into that bum leg of his and get it up to snuff in time for festivities.
I like to think that they polkaed up a storm today, just like I'd heard of them doing back in the day.
Have you ever gotten a look that was worth a number of words so well-chosen as to be completely unambiguous in meaning?
Unnerving, isn't it.
Unnerving, isn't it.
Am totally in agreement. This is why I took up knitting on circular needles, in fact. If I have to do any 'making up,' then gosh darnit, the project's not going to get finished anytime soon.
-Yo(u) go, girl(sorry, couldn't resist). Totally forgot about them 'til I re-checked-out your blogroll.
-Yo(u) go, girl(sorry, couldn't resist). Totally forgot about them 'til I re-checked-out your blogroll.
Another bumper sticker.
This one was on a Scion on Prospect Hill: "Well-behaved women rarely make history."
Yes, and well-behaved males rarely make the news.
This one was on a Scion on Prospect Hill: "Well-behaved women rarely make history."
Yes, and well-behaved males rarely make the news.
The Socks Make the Man
The promotional posters expose a very distinctive pair of socks:
Which makes me wonder if he's not trying to follow in the footsteps of another beloved (real) French character with a very similar sense of physical comedy (we've often wondered if Sellers patterned Inspector Clouseau after Monsieur Hulot, for that matter):
Maybe I'm reading too deeply into things, but then again, maybe not. It might be worth the cost of admission to see, however, and a girl can always hope.
The promotional posters expose a very distinctive pair of socks:
Which makes me wonder if he's not trying to follow in the footsteps of another beloved (real) French character with a very similar sense of physical comedy (we've often wondered if Sellers patterned Inspector Clouseau after Monsieur Hulot, for that matter):
Maybe I'm reading too deeply into things, but then again, maybe not. It might be worth the cost of admission to see, however, and a girl can always hope.
The girl's nothing if not regular.
Stopped by Ali's to get a cup of something warm to drink and was greeted by one of the substitute guys:
"Every day at the same time - you must like your job, right?"
"Well...I don't think I'd show up if they didn't pay me. Aside from that, I guess it's okay."
He laughed.
Got to the register with my small decaf, my cereal bar, my piece of cheese and my banana. While looking at my purchases on the counter, it occurred to me that I'd been getting the same breakfast for nearly five years. I mentioned this to him along with the fact that I must be an awfully boring person. He shrugged, said that routine's not a bad thing, then wished me a happy Tuesday.
Stopped by Ali's to get a cup of something warm to drink and was greeted by one of the substitute guys:
"Every day at the same time - you must like your job, right?"
"Well...I don't think I'd show up if they didn't pay me. Aside from that, I guess it's okay."
He laughed.
Got to the register with my small decaf, my cereal bar, my piece of cheese and my banana. While looking at my purchases on the counter, it occurred to me that I'd been getting the same breakfast for nearly five years. I mentioned this to him along with the fact that I must be an awfully boring person. He shrugged, said that routine's not a bad thing, then wished me a happy Tuesday.
Which leads us to:
"All I know is that to me
you look like you're having fun
Open up your loving arms
watch out
here I come.
You spin me right round
baby
right round
Like a record
baby
right round
round
round.
You spin me right round
baby
right round
Like a record
baby
right round
round
round."
In my d@mn head since seeing that blasted picture last night.
"All I know is that to me
you look like you're having fun
Open up your loving arms
watch out
here I come.
You spin me right round
baby
right round
Like a record
baby
right round
round
round.
You spin me right round
baby
right round
Like a record
baby
right round
round
round."
In my d@mn head since seeing that blasted picture last night.
Did they get their Georges mixed up?
This guy's the President of the United States, not the Film-Critic-in-Chief. His take on current movies (or his opinions on pop culture, gay or otherwise) really doesn't interest me (or most people, I'm willing to bet).
Might be a better idea to field their question to this guy, as he seems to have his finger on that particular pulse (no doubt keeping in touch with the vast majority of his constituents).
This guy's the President of the United States, not the Film-Critic-in-Chief. His take on current movies (or his opinions on pop culture, gay or otherwise) really doesn't interest me (or most people, I'm willing to bet).
Might be a better idea to field their question to this guy, as he seems to have his finger on that particular pulse (no doubt keeping in touch with the vast majority of his constituents).
Friday, January 20, 2006
Today's earworm:
"Clowns to the left of me,
Jokers to the right,
Here I am: stuck in the middle (with you)."
"Clowns to the left of me,
Jokers to the right,
Here I am: stuck in the middle (with you)."
Chirac is either putting his money where his mouth is or putting his foot in his mouth here, I guess.
Relatively little on it in the news, though. I'd imagine that if Bush were to say something similar, we'd have heard much more on it and maybe have seen a couple UN Security Council resolutions drafted by now.
Relatively little on it in the news, though. I'd imagine that if Bush were to say something similar, we'd have heard much more on it and maybe have seen a couple UN Security Council resolutions drafted by now.
Poor thing.
If the s/he wasn't sick already, I'm sure they would be by now sheerly from swimming in the Thames.
If the s/he wasn't sick already, I'm sure they would be by now sheerly from swimming in the Thames.
Oh my word: winter orgy season almost snuck by me! Would have been tragic if it did.
Did so far manage to catch a good bit of the Shostakovich program. This morning, transcended my coffee, kitchen and towel robe while listening to Shirley Horn's take on "Fever."
***
Snort! Awesome! Just checked out the program: Gang of Four orgy on my birthday! Anthrax is my theme song.
Did so far manage to catch a good bit of the Shostakovich program. This morning, transcended my coffee, kitchen and towel robe while listening to Shirley Horn's take on "Fever."
***
Snort! Awesome! Just checked out the program: Gang of Four orgy on my birthday! Anthrax is my theme song.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Poe was not only the father of the modern horror story, but a great source of inspiration for the Symbolists. His gothic sensibility certainly made an impression on Charles Baudelaire, who penned the definitive translations of Poe's works.
The Raven - Edgar Allan Poe
Le Corbeau - traduction de Ch. Baudelaire
Bonus! Une autre traduction par Mallarmé! (Never saw this one before - great to learn something new.)
The Raven - Edgar Allan Poe
Le Corbeau - traduction de Ch. Baudelaire
Bonus! Une autre traduction par Mallarmé! (Never saw this one before - great to learn something new.)
Buñuel Moment #1:
Along with Grandpa's, there was another wake taking place at the funeral home. After things quieted down, the manager made a little joke about the difficulty of having two Polish funerals at the same time, given how everybody's name was so hard to pronounce. We laughed and talked a bit about hooked-on-phonics and Polish names(The key players on our side were ZAHN-droh-VEETS and Tack. The other family? Say it aloud: "Where's your house key?").
Joking done, back to business: plans had to be firmed up for the next morning, names taken down for the breakfast, etc. The manager let us know that Grandpa looked really good, that the other guy being buried looked worse than him and was 20 years younger. Asked us if we wanted to see. Sure. Why not?
We walked over to the other visitation room to take a look. It was just like ours: opulently appointed (Second Empire), flower-filled, dimly-lit. Same soft music playing. Very similar-looking bald head in a casket. In fact, the only way one could differentiate the two would be by the color of the caskets.
Along with Grandpa's, there was another wake taking place at the funeral home. After things quieted down, the manager made a little joke about the difficulty of having two Polish funerals at the same time, given how everybody's name was so hard to pronounce. We laughed and talked a bit about hooked-on-phonics and Polish names(The key players on our side were ZAHN-droh-VEETS and Tack. The other family? Say it aloud: "Where's your house key?").
Joking done, back to business: plans had to be firmed up for the next morning, names taken down for the breakfast, etc. The manager let us know that Grandpa looked really good, that the other guy being buried looked worse than him and was 20 years younger. Asked us if we wanted to see. Sure. Why not?
We walked over to the other visitation room to take a look. It was just like ours: opulently appointed (Second Empire), flower-filled, dimly-lit. Same soft music playing. Very similar-looking bald head in a casket. In fact, the only way one could differentiate the two would be by the color of the caskets.
Buñuel Moment #2:
Grandpa's final trip began with prayers at the funeral home. Since the priest was was waiting at the church, the funeral director led us in a moment of silence and then the Lord's Prayer. While my head was bowed down, I noted that she'd accessorized the very appropriate and conservative black suit with a pair of boots the likes of which I'd never seen outside of a fetish shop. They had it all: four inch heels, spiked toes, black patent leather, silver buckles everywhere.
Mentioned this to my dad and Hal: they'd both picked up on the shoes as well. Hal pointed out that it didn't seem like too much of a stretch for a funeral director to be moonlighting as a dominatrix.
Grandpa's final trip began with prayers at the funeral home. Since the priest was was waiting at the church, the funeral director led us in a moment of silence and then the Lord's Prayer. While my head was bowed down, I noted that she'd accessorized the very appropriate and conservative black suit with a pair of boots the likes of which I'd never seen outside of a fetish shop. They had it all: four inch heels, spiked toes, black patent leather, silver buckles everywhere.
Mentioned this to my dad and Hal: they'd both picked up on the shoes as well. Hal pointed out that it didn't seem like too much of a stretch for a funeral director to be moonlighting as a dominatrix.
They're good for comedy if for nothing else.
This sort of reminds me of a story my brother told me from back in his military days:
One evening while on watch, he was approached by a couple of hippie-looking sorts carrying buckets. One of them introduced themselves as members of Greenpeace, told him that they had a couple of buckets of pig's blood and asked him to spread it on the deck of his ship. His answer? Why would he jeopardize his career for a couple of stoned idiots, and, by the way, where'd they get the pig's blood?
Bruvvie's just as crunchy as the next person (got the 'don't ask don't tell' treatment thanks to his galley dance parties and playing of Arlo Guthrie albums while underway...heck, even was even an AI member back when they actually did good work). Doesn't suffer fools well, though. Members of this group have always struck us as being particular fools, too, which is a pity, because we're all about environmental responsibility, and don't mind supporting responsible organisations of like mind.
This sort of reminds me of a story my brother told me from back in his military days:
One evening while on watch, he was approached by a couple of hippie-looking sorts carrying buckets. One of them introduced themselves as members of Greenpeace, told him that they had a couple of buckets of pig's blood and asked him to spread it on the deck of his ship. His answer? Why would he jeopardize his career for a couple of stoned idiots, and, by the way, where'd they get the pig's blood?
Bruvvie's just as crunchy as the next person (got the 'don't ask don't tell' treatment thanks to his galley dance parties and playing of Arlo Guthrie albums while underway...heck, even was even an AI member back when they actually did good work). Doesn't suffer fools well, though. Members of this group have always struck us as being particular fools, too, which is a pity, because we're all about environmental responsibility, and don't mind supporting responsible organisations of like mind.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Autour le Charles
Happy me, I found a little gift in my mailbox this morning. It looks as though my rambling shutterbug's well enough to take up his commutes à pied again.
Not too much ice on the Charles, as it's been surprisingly temperate this month (Currently, the temperature's in the low 60s).
Someone else who doesn't mind the warmer weather.
Fo' shizzle.
Interesting side note on that pilgrim hat: I'd always thought that the new logo for the Massachusetts Turnpike was a leprechaun hat (dead serious! Symbolizing what? The great Hibernian patronage system that the Pike symbolizes?). Hal disabused me of this notion on the last cah trip we took: up until the 90s, when the state religion of PC was instituted, the logo was a pilgrim hat pierced by an arrow.
***
Look! Hal managed to find an example of the old logo:
There's an even older one, too, that doesn't reference Indians or pilgrims. Wonder why they ever let go of that one.
Happy me, I found a little gift in my mailbox this morning. It looks as though my rambling shutterbug's well enough to take up his commutes à pied again.
Not too much ice on the Charles, as it's been surprisingly temperate this month (Currently, the temperature's in the low 60s).
Someone else who doesn't mind the warmer weather.
Fo' shizzle.
Interesting side note on that pilgrim hat: I'd always thought that the new logo for the Massachusetts Turnpike was a leprechaun hat (dead serious! Symbolizing what? The great Hibernian patronage system that the Pike symbolizes?). Hal disabused me of this notion on the last cah trip we took: up until the 90s, when the state religion of PC was instituted, the logo was a pilgrim hat pierced by an arrow.
***
Look! Hal managed to find an example of the old logo:
There's an even older one, too, that doesn't reference Indians or pilgrims. Wonder why they ever let go of that one.
Full-throttle frontal action
We've got a severe wind warning until later this afternoon, followed by heavy rain and possible thunderstorms. (Wind velocities have been clocked at up to 66 mph over at Blue Hill Observatory, just to the south of the city.)
It's kind of freaky having the wind howl around your office, to have the blinds be moved from behind closed windows. (Is the building swaying or is the window not insulated?) Am very glad that I don't have to be working outside today. (ooh - and now the rain's started.)
***
EEE! The building just started shaking in earnest with the last gust! It sounds like Niagara Falls out there, too!
We've got a severe wind warning until later this afternoon, followed by heavy rain and possible thunderstorms. (Wind velocities have been clocked at up to 66 mph over at Blue Hill Observatory, just to the south of the city.)
It's kind of freaky having the wind howl around your office, to have the blinds be moved from behind closed windows. (Is the building swaying or is the window not insulated?) Am very glad that I don't have to be working outside today. (ooh - and now the rain's started.)
***
EEE! The building just started shaking in earnest with the last gust! It sounds like Niagara Falls out there, too!
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Stickers seen on the back bumper of an older-model Volvo station wagon outside Union Square today:
"Capitali$m: our predatory economic system."
"War is terrorism, only with a bigger budget."
What can a girl say about this sort of stuff that hasn't already been said before? All I can really do is just smile at the driver (who I see a fair bit - the stickers just showed up recently), nod and keep my distance, I guess.
"Capitali$m: our predatory economic system."
"War is terrorism, only with a bigger budget."
What can a girl say about this sort of stuff that hasn't already been said before? All I can really do is just smile at the driver (who I see a fair bit - the stickers just showed up recently), nod and keep my distance, I guess.
Mon embarras du choix (updated)
Hit the jackpot yesterday morning on the way to work: found a twenty dollar bill in the street. What a nice way to end such a difficult week.
Am trying to decide what to do with my windfall, as $20 is an awful lot of money, after all. Should I put it in my savings account? Pay my electric bill? Spend it on groceries? Something frivolous? Even here, $20 will pay for quite a bit of frivolity: a skein of really nice (cashmere even!) yarn, a trip to the movies (if there's anything worth seeing) and dessert afterwards, some music. A DVD (heck - almost 1/2 a DVD player to play said DVD on), a new outfit (if you shop like I do), some fun kitchen gadgets.
Wow. What a bit of mad money can do for a girl's psyche. I feel as though the world's my oyster.
***
I decided to spend my cash on a subscription renewal to my favorite knitting magazine. Have a roomful of yarn, so figured that it might be better to invest in things to help the inspiration.
Have been meaning to make something for me for a while now, but kept getting sidetracked by socks, hats and baby layettes. Decided that it was time to make me a birthday present, went through my stash, found about 1400 yds a pretty color-flecked blue acrylic/wool blend, a pair of size 8s and a cable needle. My intention is to make me a nice little updated aran by a favorite(fairly)local artist.
Kristin Nicholas's Aran Pullover, from the Winter 05 edition of Interweave Knits.
If I can talk someone into taking some pictures, I'll give updates.
Hit the jackpot yesterday morning on the way to work: found a twenty dollar bill in the street. What a nice way to end such a difficult week.
Am trying to decide what to do with my windfall, as $20 is an awful lot of money, after all. Should I put it in my savings account? Pay my electric bill? Spend it on groceries? Something frivolous? Even here, $20 will pay for quite a bit of frivolity: a skein of really nice (cashmere even!) yarn, a trip to the movies (if there's anything worth seeing) and dessert afterwards, some music. A DVD (heck - almost 1/2 a DVD player to play said DVD on), a new outfit (if you shop like I do), some fun kitchen gadgets.
Wow. What a bit of mad money can do for a girl's psyche. I feel as though the world's my oyster.
***
I decided to spend my cash on a subscription renewal to my favorite knitting magazine. Have a roomful of yarn, so figured that it might be better to invest in things to help the inspiration.
Have been meaning to make something for me for a while now, but kept getting sidetracked by socks, hats and baby layettes. Decided that it was time to make me a birthday present, went through my stash, found about 1400 yds a pretty color-flecked blue acrylic/wool blend, a pair of size 8s and a cable needle. My intention is to make me a nice little updated aran by a favorite(fairly)local artist.
Kristin Nicholas's Aran Pullover, from the Winter 05 edition of Interweave Knits.
If I can talk someone into taking some pictures, I'll give updates.
Speaking of Nakadai, Okada and Takemitsu:
Rumor has it that Criterion may well have the Teshigahara/Abe series in the works. I certainly hope so. Have only seen Woman in the Dunes - an a propos as hell take on modern life. Am obsessed with the music from Face of Another. Have only seen scenes from Pitfall. (Ruined Map? No idea about that one.)
Yes, we're waiting with bated breath.
Rumor has it that Criterion may well have the Teshigahara/Abe series in the works. I certainly hope so. Have only seen Woman in the Dunes - an a propos as hell take on modern life. Am obsessed with the music from Face of Another. Have only seen scenes from Pitfall. (Ruined Map? No idea about that one.)
Yes, we're waiting with bated breath.
Monday, January 16, 2006
After returning from last week's festivities, we had a relapse. Don't know if it was the same virus getting used to us as we were down, or if it was a new one. No matter: left us feeling very wretched indeed.
Hal went through the trouble of making me a soup - pea soup with the ham bone left over from New Year's dinner. Pea soup's one of my favorites, so it broke my heart to not be able to taste what I think must be a wonderful first attempt. Though he doesn't relish the process as I do (often jokes about eating spaghetti-os in a can standing over the sink "to save time"), I do believe that he is a better cook than I am, so I like to be supportive of his efforts.
Tasteless soups, boxes of wasted tissues and menthol drops aside, it wasn't too terrible a weekend. I managed to weave in the ends of a mohair/pearl cotton scarf I knitted up during the car trip. Lots of cat naps were taken, plenty of films were watched. Hal indulged me with some chambara (Had to get my Nakadai itch scratched, this time with the delightfully named Kill!, a surprisingly not-nihilist and funny film about a yakuza working off some karma.)
Nakadai (right) as the former Samurai teams up with Etsushi Takahashi (left), a farmer who aspires to becoming a Samurai in Kill!: an unlikely pair in a surprisingly feel-good film with a Spaghetti-western soundtrack.
A more angelic-looking Nakadai in Kobayashi's Kwaidan, where he plays a young woodcutter whose beauty causes even a spirit to take flesh to be near him.
We also watched the opening credits and final fight scene in Samurai Spy, Shinoda's way-twisty (and slightly farfelu) ninja story set towards the end of the period between Sekigahara and the Toyotomi clan's final stand against the Tokugawa. There's plenty of samurai eye-candy, however, between Tetsuro Tamba(*sigh* as a leper in a silly white outfit he still rings my bell) and Eiji Okada (who became a sex symbol in France for his roll in Hiroshima, Mon Amour), not to mention a delicious, Cuban-inspired soundtrack by Takemitsu.
Hal went through the trouble of making me a soup - pea soup with the ham bone left over from New Year's dinner. Pea soup's one of my favorites, so it broke my heart to not be able to taste what I think must be a wonderful first attempt. Though he doesn't relish the process as I do (often jokes about eating spaghetti-os in a can standing over the sink "to save time"), I do believe that he is a better cook than I am, so I like to be supportive of his efforts.
Tasteless soups, boxes of wasted tissues and menthol drops aside, it wasn't too terrible a weekend. I managed to weave in the ends of a mohair/pearl cotton scarf I knitted up during the car trip. Lots of cat naps were taken, plenty of films were watched. Hal indulged me with some chambara (Had to get my Nakadai itch scratched, this time with the delightfully named Kill!, a surprisingly not-nihilist and funny film about a yakuza working off some karma.)
Nakadai (right) as the former Samurai teams up with Etsushi Takahashi (left), a farmer who aspires to becoming a Samurai in Kill!: an unlikely pair in a surprisingly feel-good film with a Spaghetti-western soundtrack.
A more angelic-looking Nakadai in Kobayashi's Kwaidan, where he plays a young woodcutter whose beauty causes even a spirit to take flesh to be near him.
We also watched the opening credits and final fight scene in Samurai Spy, Shinoda's way-twisty (and slightly farfelu) ninja story set towards the end of the period between Sekigahara and the Toyotomi clan's final stand against the Tokugawa. There's plenty of samurai eye-candy, however, between Tetsuro Tamba(*sigh* as a leper in a silly white outfit he still rings my bell) and Eiji Okada (who became a sex symbol in France for his roll in Hiroshima, Mon Amour), not to mention a delicious, Cuban-inspired soundtrack by Takemitsu.
Happy New Year
Today's the best I've felt in nearly a month. Am still coughing like the experienced smoker I am not, but managed to neither blow my way through a box of tissues nor take any decongestants. Tomorrow, I'll be back to the first full work day in over two weeks.
It was so nice to get a deep, dreamless, full-night's sleep. Haven't had that in a very long time. Woke up late, but energized enough to take on a few tasks, anyway.
Am hoping to start exercising more as the lung capacity increases and the back mends. For the first time since late 2004, I actually feel hopeful and capable enough to tend to business.
Today's the best I've felt in nearly a month. Am still coughing like the experienced smoker I am not, but managed to neither blow my way through a box of tissues nor take any decongestants. Tomorrow, I'll be back to the first full work day in over two weeks.
It was so nice to get a deep, dreamless, full-night's sleep. Haven't had that in a very long time. Woke up late, but energized enough to take on a few tasks, anyway.
Am hoping to start exercising more as the lung capacity increases and the back mends. For the first time since late 2004, I actually feel hopeful and capable enough to tend to business.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Crazy weather here. It feels more like April than January. Nice for being outside, but perhaps not so good for the health.
Yesterday, walked to work wearing the spring jacket instead of the winter one. Had a hat on, but had to take it off halfway through the journey.
Even if I wanted to go outside, I don't think it would be a good idea today: we're getting a blizzard's worth of liquid snowfall.
(Back to sleep?)
Yesterday, walked to work wearing the spring jacket instead of the winter one. Had a hat on, but had to take it off halfway through the journey.
Even if I wanted to go outside, I don't think it would be a good idea today: we're getting a blizzard's worth of liquid snowfall.
(Back to sleep?)
Back after an interesting but emotionally and physically gruelling time. Will write more on this later, I'm sure. For now, however, I have to continue perfecting my coughing technique, eating soup, watching movies, napping. Am still pretty sick and need to get over whatever the heck this virus is.
(Funny note: the little brother asked if I wasn't perhaps "patient zero" for the bird flu in this part of the world. Mentioned that I didn't think so *cough*hack*Squawk*)
(Funny note: the little brother asked if I wasn't perhaps "patient zero" for the bird flu in this part of the world. Mentioned that I didn't think so *cough*hack*Squawk*)
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Monday, January 09, 2006
On rit par peur d'en finir à pleurer, I
I sent Karen my request for bereavement time off. She looked it over, paused for a minute and asked, "which is your grand father's parish?"
"Saint John's, but mom changing the arrangements to have the mass at Saint Al's. Why?"
"Which funeral home?"
"At this point, I'm not sure." I told her, though, that I really didn't care where they had the mass so long as they had the wake at Amigone.
"If you'd have said something, I could've gotten you a deal, you know." *
"Oh, that's right. You'd have made the arrangements yourself, right? Personal service?"
"Of course."
"Yeah, I'm sure. Right into the Scajaquada."
***
*Her family business is mortuary (dead serious). Also - her grandmother's another not-so-famous first: she was the first practicing female undertaker in New York State.
I sent Karen my request for bereavement time off. She looked it over, paused for a minute and asked, "which is your grand father's parish?"
"Saint John's, but mom changing the arrangements to have the mass at Saint Al's. Why?"
"Which funeral home?"
"At this point, I'm not sure." I told her, though, that I really didn't care where they had the mass so long as they had the wake at Amigone.
"If you'd have said something, I could've gotten you a deal, you know." *
"Oh, that's right. You'd have made the arrangements yourself, right? Personal service?"
"Of course."
"Yeah, I'm sure. Right into the Scajaquada."
***
*Her family business is mortuary (dead serious). Also - her grandmother's another not-so-famous first: she was the first practicing female undertaker in New York State.
Grandpa passed away this weekend. Though details are sketchy at this point, I'd like to think that he died peacefully in his sleep, happy from spending a couple lucid hours eating something good and talking to my cousin.
Though I'm going to miss him, I can't cry over this. Just not able to. His last weeks were gruelling; not anything that I'd ever want to have to live through.
Also, a part of him died when Grandma died four years ago. They'd been together for nearly 65 years, and all he really wanted was to get back to her as soon as he could.
Though I'm going to miss him, I can't cry over this. Just not able to. His last weeks were gruelling; not anything that I'd ever want to have to live through.
Also, a part of him died when Grandma died four years ago. They'd been together for nearly 65 years, and all he really wanted was to get back to her as soon as he could.
Talked to my dad the other day: he seems well - was up and could walk but needed to rest after his surgery (stents put in some arteries in his legs to clear out blockages - hopefully they'll work and he won't have to get the bypass). Since I'd just gotten my test results back from my doctor, I mentioned to him that it appeared as though, in addition to the long legs, I'd inherited his beautiful thick blood. Thanked him for this gift.
He laughed and responded that I descended from Vikings and that as a Viking I needed the rich blood and big bones to go about the business of conquering the world.
(Am hoping that I got the Viking sense of humor as well.)
He laughed and responded that I descended from Vikings and that as a Viking I needed the rich blood and big bones to go about the business of conquering the world.
(Am hoping that I got the Viking sense of humor as well.)
Friday, January 06, 2006
Un autre fanatique de coquetiers bruxellois
What're the chances that one would hit upon more than one egg-cup collector in the world, much less in Brussels? Small world, isn't it? (And a very lovely site.)
What're the chances that one would hit upon more than one egg-cup collector in the world, much less in Brussels? Small world, isn't it? (And a very lovely site.)
Friday afternoon Furface
Somewhere around midafternoon, got to thinking about the cats. Missed Mamasan in particular in spite of his having been a bit tetchy lately. Don't know if looking at pictures (or kitty p#rn as Pavel calls it) has helped matters any as you can't hear the purrs, rub the chins or smell the necks of pictures.
Somewhere around midafternoon, got to thinking about the cats. Missed Mamasan in particular in spite of his having been a bit tetchy lately. Don't know if looking at pictures (or kitty p#rn as Pavel calls it) has helped matters any as you can't hear the purrs, rub the chins or smell the necks of pictures.
Never thought I'd be so happy to get back to the office as I am now. I love sitting upright, breathing properly, not coughing, playing at being productive. I love seeing other people and talking to them, love typing, love looking at the pretty blooming Christmas cactus on my bookshelf.
Didn't sleep so well last night, as have a fair number of worries: Dad's probably just coming out of surgery now and Grandpa's "going gentle into that good night," enough of his pain hopefully dulled by the morphine. My favorite aunt's in a bad spot: very very sick, and unable to move. Her twin, my mom, I don't think has been sober in days if not weeks.
I've always had a hard time with that part of the prayer that says "grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change." I'm having a particularly difficult time with it right now. Nothing I can do from here, and even if I were there, what to do? Can't help Grandpa: he's 91, it's his time. My mother has to help herself, and is apparently unwilling/unable. Auntie and Dad? Well, they'll be alright, I guess. Still, I hate being powerless.
Didn't sleep so well last night, as have a fair number of worries: Dad's probably just coming out of surgery now and Grandpa's "going gentle into that good night," enough of his pain hopefully dulled by the morphine. My favorite aunt's in a bad spot: very very sick, and unable to move. Her twin, my mom, I don't think has been sober in days if not weeks.
I've always had a hard time with that part of the prayer that says "grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change." I'm having a particularly difficult time with it right now. Nothing I can do from here, and even if I were there, what to do? Can't help Grandpa: he's 91, it's his time. My mother has to help herself, and is apparently unwilling/unable. Auntie and Dad? Well, they'll be alright, I guess. Still, I hate being powerless.
I have sort of a fascination with blonde jokes, what with my being blonde and all. Thought I'd heard them all. Then Nappy sends me this one.
My party personae:
"You know that little box on your pay stub that says FICA? I'm living proof that your tax dollars are working. (twitch)"
"Medical test subject"
"Plasma donor"
"Surrogate Mother (or egg donor)"
After enough of these lines, my friends stopped making me go to parties and all but gave up on finding me a young professional Mr. Right-type.
(Actually had a very romantic, perfect-for-me job at the time. Was poorer than dirt, but was happiest in my work ever.)
"You know that little box on your pay stub that says FICA? I'm living proof that your tax dollars are working. (twitch)"
"Medical test subject"
"Plasma donor"
"Surrogate Mother (or egg donor)"
After enough of these lines, my friends stopped making me go to parties and all but gave up on finding me a young professional Mr. Right-type.
(Actually had a very romantic, perfect-for-me job at the time. Was poorer than dirt, but was happiest in my work ever.)
Just as I get my previous entry posted, my little beau bleu decides to give me the finger, say "eff you, Be" and leave. From what things look like, I get the feeling that she had the same problem that put beau gris in a coma.
I understand that I get what I pay for. Still, it does strike me as rather odd to have two of the same make/model of computer die in the same way in less than a year. Has anyone else ever had this problem with the older model iMacs? (Beau gris had a G3 processor and beau bleu was a Power PC.)
I understand that I get what I pay for. Still, it does strike me as rather odd to have two of the same make/model of computer die in the same way in less than a year. Has anyone else ever had this problem with the older model iMacs? (Beau gris had a G3 processor and beau bleu was a Power PC.)
Thursday, January 05, 2006
I wrote about eating a boiled egg in the third person the other day. This so fascinated a friend that I thought I'd bring back a narrative of getting dressed for work I'd written in the second person singular.
Enjoy!
I'm particularly obsessed with second person singular, as, while but a child in a progressive school in the Berkshires, I got to read a particularly haunting story by no one in particular, apparently. In a subsequent creative writing class, wrote a story in second person. The teacher sent it back with a big, fat F. Said that I'd gotten the assignment all wrong: no one ever wrote in the second person. Was bad form, bad English. She demanded another essay. Told her (in a very polite way, of course) to go "eff" herself and took the F.
Enjoy!
I'm particularly obsessed with second person singular, as, while but a child in a progressive school in the Berkshires, I got to read a particularly haunting story by no one in particular, apparently. In a subsequent creative writing class, wrote a story in second person. The teacher sent it back with a big, fat F. Said that I'd gotten the assignment all wrong: no one ever wrote in the second person. Was bad form, bad English. She demanded another essay. Told her (in a very polite way, of course) to go "eff" herself and took the F.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Food would be nice if she could taste it. Since she can't, she refrains from eating, drinks tea and thinks about how good something might taste if only she could. She's taken to looking longingly at images of pretty food like a soldier or travelling businessman might look at pictures brought along of wives, sweethearts, family. Though it's not the same as enjoying, truly enjoying the Real Thing, there's a lot to be said for thinking about the intimate details of a favorite meal.
Daydreamed about a soft-cooked egg this morning - cooked for about five minutes, it had a slightly solid white which barely contained the hot, runny yolk. She managed to peel it without losing any of the precious center, then laid it on its side on the saucer. Thought again for the nth time how nice it would be to get a couple egg cups.
(Benno's mom collected egg cups - had walls full of them in her kitchen and diningroom. Would be quite a job cataloging them all. Fun, too, what with all the lovely designs: Willow patterns, flow blue, Portmeiron botanicals, porcelain with gold scrollwork from some fabricant in Limoges...for daily-to-day usage, plain white bone-china ones were kept in a cabinet in the kitchen next to the stove. Such a good idea, egg cups.)
Oh, to heck with egg cups for now - the egg still needed to be eaten before it got cold. Sliced it in half to set the yolk free, ground a bit of pepper over it from the new grinder she got for Christmas, carefully applied a pinch of salt to each half.
Grabbed the toast out of the broiler (Yes, she heats up the oven to make toast. Doesn't own a toaster; dislikes gadgets and clutter. Especially in the kitchen). Smiled for having gotten it right: brown, but not black. No soft spots, no need to scrape. Decided to go all out and have real butter this time - no Smart Balance. The 12 grain bread's sweet enough without the spread. Cut the slice into diagonal quarters, then framed the egg with the points.
Of course, the magic wore off when it came down to the actual eating: the egg felt like an egg with pepper but didn't taste like anything much: just the salt managed to get through the taste buds. The perfect toast crunched nicely, absorbed the butter beautifully, and felt very healthful thanks to the all the encrusted seeds. Again: didn't taste like much. The fussy preparation felt a bit like a waste of time and effort. She sat there with her big cup of honeyed tea and an apple (which got some salt on it - not like she could tell enough to be repulsed) after the egg and sighed. At least she filled herself up, anyway. Now how much longer before she had to repeat the ritual for lunch? Dinner might well be skipped if things kept up as such.
Daydreamed about a soft-cooked egg this morning - cooked for about five minutes, it had a slightly solid white which barely contained the hot, runny yolk. She managed to peel it without losing any of the precious center, then laid it on its side on the saucer. Thought again for the nth time how nice it would be to get a couple egg cups.
(Benno's mom collected egg cups - had walls full of them in her kitchen and diningroom. Would be quite a job cataloging them all. Fun, too, what with all the lovely designs: Willow patterns, flow blue, Portmeiron botanicals, porcelain with gold scrollwork from some fabricant in Limoges...for daily-to-day usage, plain white bone-china ones were kept in a cabinet in the kitchen next to the stove. Such a good idea, egg cups.)
Oh, to heck with egg cups for now - the egg still needed to be eaten before it got cold. Sliced it in half to set the yolk free, ground a bit of pepper over it from the new grinder she got for Christmas, carefully applied a pinch of salt to each half.
Grabbed the toast out of the broiler (Yes, she heats up the oven to make toast. Doesn't own a toaster; dislikes gadgets and clutter. Especially in the kitchen). Smiled for having gotten it right: brown, but not black. No soft spots, no need to scrape. Decided to go all out and have real butter this time - no Smart Balance. The 12 grain bread's sweet enough without the spread. Cut the slice into diagonal quarters, then framed the egg with the points.
Of course, the magic wore off when it came down to the actual eating: the egg felt like an egg with pepper but didn't taste like anything much: just the salt managed to get through the taste buds. The perfect toast crunched nicely, absorbed the butter beautifully, and felt very healthful thanks to the all the encrusted seeds. Again: didn't taste like much. The fussy preparation felt a bit like a waste of time and effort. She sat there with her big cup of honeyed tea and an apple (which got some salt on it - not like she could tell enough to be repulsed) after the egg and sighed. At least she filled herself up, anyway. Now how much longer before she had to repeat the ritual for lunch? Dinner might well be skipped if things kept up as such.
2005's still working its way through my body.
The transformation from Eartha Kitt to Frog Princess occurred sometime around New Year's Eve. Have since looked up the problem and found that the missing voice might not be found for two weeks. No doubt this is a wonderful gift for my coworkers and friends.
Am pretty tired out from lack of activity. There's only so much a girl can do at home alone, whizzed up on cold and pain medication. Can't phone anyone to harass them, can't concentrate too much on any major project such as color knitting or a novel. Keep falling asleep during a movie. How I'd love to be able to go outside, take a walk, see and communicate with other people. (Can't talk and don't want to risk falling again like I did twice this weekend. Ouch.)
The transformation from Eartha Kitt to Frog Princess occurred sometime around New Year's Eve. Have since looked up the problem and found that the missing voice might not be found for two weeks. No doubt this is a wonderful gift for my coworkers and friends.
Am pretty tired out from lack of activity. There's only so much a girl can do at home alone, whizzed up on cold and pain medication. Can't phone anyone to harass them, can't concentrate too much on any major project such as color knitting or a novel. Keep falling asleep during a movie. How I'd love to be able to go outside, take a walk, see and communicate with other people. (Can't talk and don't want to risk falling again like I did twice this weekend. Ouch.)
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Though not generally what one would call tradition-bound, I do find that I cling to some real doozies like the post Christmas respiratory infection. Some years, it's more annoying than others: have ended up in hospital emergency rooms on New Years Day with full-blown pneumonia. This year, not as bad as that, but draining just the same. It started last Monday with the aches and pains, the exhaustion and the burning throat. Half-heartedly fighting it (what's the use? That's why I slid back so this past year - old stuff coming up to play with me again and again and again. Got tired, stopped fighting back.) probably caused things to get worse rather than better, so I ended up without a voice and feeling like a wet rag by New Years Eve Day.
We kept the festivities very low key as a result: dinner with friends (a glazed ham, some scallopped potatoes, peas washed down with Joachim's gorgeous spiced wine), Pablo reading to us a bit from a book of Native American myths, Sleeper (how is it that this movie gets funnier and funnier each time we see it?). Flipped channels a bit to see New Year being celebrated in TV-land, was happy to see Dick Clark looking and sounding as well as he could. After the ball dropped, we decided to climb Winter Hill to see if we could catch some of the First Night fireworks: just missed them. Only slightly disappointed, we wandered back to the house, decorating cars by drawing cartoon figures, 2006s, "Happy New Year" in as many languages as we knew in the snow on windshields.
We kept the festivities very low key as a result: dinner with friends (a glazed ham, some scallopped potatoes, peas washed down with Joachim's gorgeous spiced wine), Pablo reading to us a bit from a book of Native American myths, Sleeper (how is it that this movie gets funnier and funnier each time we see it?). Flipped channels a bit to see New Year being celebrated in TV-land, was happy to see Dick Clark looking and sounding as well as he could. After the ball dropped, we decided to climb Winter Hill to see if we could catch some of the First Night fireworks: just missed them. Only slightly disappointed, we wandered back to the house, decorating cars by drawing cartoon figures, 2006s, "Happy New Year" in as many languages as we knew in the snow on windshields.
Friday, December 30, 2005
Nappy was back for a limited engagement, bringing a bit of sparkle to what was an otherwise lackluster couple weeks. A mention of robin's egg blue got the tired mind thinking of fun retro-colors, my Danish grandma's pink kitchen and Deer Isle granite. A lovely pattern came up in a search that got me thinking all about Bergman, Arija and Marimekko. Now I'm thinking that I want to see Smiles of a Summer Night as soon as possible and get myself a little bit of fabric to make a summer dress with. Since my birthday's coming up (and it's a half milestone), I could manage a little indulgence, maybe.
What a wonderful train-of-thought ride.
What a wonderful train-of-thought ride.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Who hurt you so,
My dear?
Who, long ago
When you were very young,
Did, said, became, was...something that you did not know
Beauty could ever do, say, be, become?--
So that your brown eyes filled
With tears they never, not to this day, have shed...
Not because one more boy stood hurt by life,
No: because something deathless had dropped dead--
An ugly, an indecent thing to do--
So that you stood and stared, with open mouth in which the
tongue
Froze slowly backward toward its root,
As if it would not speak again, too badly stung
By memories thick as wasps about a nest invaded
To know if or if not you suffered pain.
-Edna St Vincent Millay
Thought of this after happening upon a couple posts regarding the politicising of trauma of living through something horrible. Is a major subject for me for a number of reasons, so have been following it with some interest for a while.
My dear?
Who, long ago
When you were very young,
Did, said, became, was...something that you did not know
Beauty could ever do, say, be, become?--
So that your brown eyes filled
With tears they never, not to this day, have shed...
Not because one more boy stood hurt by life,
No: because something deathless had dropped dead--
An ugly, an indecent thing to do--
So that you stood and stared, with open mouth in which the
tongue
Froze slowly backward toward its root,
As if it would not speak again, too badly stung
By memories thick as wasps about a nest invaded
To know if or if not you suffered pain.
-Edna St Vincent Millay
Thought of this after happening upon a couple posts regarding the politicising of trauma of living through something horrible. Is a major subject for me for a number of reasons, so have been following it with some interest for a while.
Whee!
What a rush! Hey...I just lost my shoe...would you mind...it's a little to your left...please...Oh, never mind.
What a rush! Hey...I just lost my shoe...would you mind...it's a little to your left...please...Oh, never mind.
It takes all sorts.
Seriously, though, if I were to look to carry on a relationship outside my species, I'd choose a dolphin. They're cute, they're tough (can fight off sharks from what I've read. That's pretty tough). They like to swim and fish as well, so we'd have that in common. According to Gary Larson they speak Spanish, so no language barrier...
-via Norm.
Seriously, though, if I were to look to carry on a relationship outside my species, I'd choose a dolphin. They're cute, they're tough (can fight off sharks from what I've read. That's pretty tough). They like to swim and fish as well, so we'd have that in common. According to Gary Larson they speak Spanish, so no language barrier...
-via Norm.
An important lesson learned this Christmas:
If you want to get out of cooking, cleaning up, doing dishes, etc, then get yourself a baby and keep them on your lap. They are such the "get out of (holiday) jail free" cards.
Other smaller, related lessons learned: babies pass gas and like to leave presents of curdled milk on your shoulder. Still, if you look past that, the soft skulls and lack of muscle tone, they're actually kind of neat.
(Above is little 'becca, approximately 10 weeks old, sporting a nifty little something I whipped up on the fly. Got to know her a bit this past weekend, lucky me.)
If you want to get out of cooking, cleaning up, doing dishes, etc, then get yourself a baby and keep them on your lap. They are such the "get out of (holiday) jail free" cards.
Other smaller, related lessons learned: babies pass gas and like to leave presents of curdled milk on your shoulder. Still, if you look past that, the soft skulls and lack of muscle tone, they're actually kind of neat.
(Above is little 'becca, approximately 10 weeks old, sporting a nifty little something I whipped up on the fly. Got to know her a bit this past weekend, lucky me.)
I dream a lot. If they're forgettable, I have no recall in the morning. If they're worth remembering, I do. Last night's was pretty memorable, and really pretty closed to attempts at interpretation:
My organisation hired a staff meterologist (our business is mental health services, so I have no thoughts as to why they'd hire a staff meteorologist. Odder things have shown up in admin overhead, though, I'm sure.) so I decided to be nice and stop by to introduce myself. Was pretty surprised to see Wallace Shawn in the new guy's office.
I sat down in a spare seat and he mentioned something about Simone Signoret. This immediately launched a discussion into A Room at the Top, a grim film that is beautiful in its brutal depiction of love vs ambition in post war England.
Someone wandered by the office, and immediately we hushed up. My new colleague stood up to point to some herringbone clouds out the window (even corporate meteorologists have to 'look busy,' I guess). I woke up.
My organisation hired a staff meterologist (our business is mental health services, so I have no thoughts as to why they'd hire a staff meteorologist. Odder things have shown up in admin overhead, though, I'm sure.) so I decided to be nice and stop by to introduce myself. Was pretty surprised to see Wallace Shawn in the new guy's office.
I sat down in a spare seat and he mentioned something about Simone Signoret. This immediately launched a discussion into A Room at the Top, a grim film that is beautiful in its brutal depiction of love vs ambition in post war England.
Someone wandered by the office, and immediately we hushed up. My new colleague stood up to point to some herringbone clouds out the window (even corporate meteorologists have to 'look busy,' I guess). I woke up.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Tis the season
to be tormented by one's addict relatives. Good thoughts go out to this fellow for the trials and triangulations he's being put through by his sister. It takes a lot of courage, clarity and detachment to be able to write as he has here. Am not there yet.
Despite nearly 20 years and 500 miles of separation, I still feel like an extension of my mother and not the autonomous being that I know logically myself to be. I hate that.
(via Althouse.)
to be tormented by one's addict relatives. Good thoughts go out to this fellow for the trials and triangulations he's being put through by his sister. It takes a lot of courage, clarity and detachment to be able to write as he has here. Am not there yet.
Despite nearly 20 years and 500 miles of separation, I still feel like an extension of my mother and not the autonomous being that I know logically myself to be. I hate that.
(via Althouse.)
No more doughnuts?
Michael Vale, best known for playing Fred the Baker in the Dunkin Donuts ads, passed away recently at age 83.
Is funny to still hear people today repeat the old catch phrase "time to make the doughnuts," though Fred the Baker'd retired years ago. Such is the effect of a particularly good ad campaign.
Michael Vale, best known for playing Fred the Baker in the Dunkin Donuts ads, passed away recently at age 83.
Is funny to still hear people today repeat the old catch phrase "time to make the doughnuts," though Fred the Baker'd retired years ago. Such is the effect of a particularly good ad campaign.
Out with the old and in with the new
Since mon ami de loin got a couple weeks off for the holiday, he decided to do a bit of rearranging around the house to accomodate a new lifestyle:
Fine and good, I guess, but it's going to be a bit tough to find the eunuchs he's without a doubt going to be needing to keep an eye on all those girls (and we all know how girls get in groups).
Since mon ami de loin got a couple weeks off for the holiday, he decided to do a bit of rearranging around the house to accomodate a new lifestyle:
Fine and good, I guess, but it's going to be a bit tough to find the eunuchs he's without a doubt going to be needing to keep an eye on all those girls (and we all know how girls get in groups).
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Friday, December 16, 2005
Made it home last night, weak and regressed to a preverbal state. Landlord was waiting around for me with a gift: a new cellphone (prepaid) with a couple little phonecards to go with it. Explained how to put the thing together (finally, a sim card!), set it up to charge and let me go. Went into my apartment, plugged my new appliance in to charge, sobbed a bit.
I'd had a cellphone for years until it became apparent that everyone thought I had to be accessible all the time with it. Got tired from the upbraiding I'd get if I turned the blasted thing off to get a moment's peace. Also, noted that I was seeing 'rate creep:' my initial $29.99/mo plan kept getting upped every few months by about $4-$5, so that by the time I decided to chuck the thing, my plan cost nearly nearly $50.00/mo.
Of course, it was a pain in the rear to have to find payphones when I needed to call someone. Dealt with it, though. Had considered getting a little prepaid phone, but never got around to actually comparison shopping or anything. Wasn't interested enough, I guess. It took my getting locked out of the house one Sunday afternoon to actually get Landlord on my case about getting cellphones and updating the keys left with neighbors. The key thing got done pretty quickly. Of course, the cellphone waited. And waited. And waited until last night.
I do have to admit - part of me is annoyed at the feeling of being tethered by this bit of technology again, but another part feels a bit warm because of the thoughtfulness of the gift.
I'd had a cellphone for years until it became apparent that everyone thought I had to be accessible all the time with it. Got tired from the upbraiding I'd get if I turned the blasted thing off to get a moment's peace. Also, noted that I was seeing 'rate creep:' my initial $29.99/mo plan kept getting upped every few months by about $4-$5, so that by the time I decided to chuck the thing, my plan cost nearly nearly $50.00/mo.
Of course, it was a pain in the rear to have to find payphones when I needed to call someone. Dealt with it, though. Had considered getting a little prepaid phone, but never got around to actually comparison shopping or anything. Wasn't interested enough, I guess. It took my getting locked out of the house one Sunday afternoon to actually get Landlord on my case about getting cellphones and updating the keys left with neighbors. The key thing got done pretty quickly. Of course, the cellphone waited. And waited. And waited until last night.
I do have to admit - part of me is annoyed at the feeling of being tethered by this bit of technology again, but another part feels a bit warm because of the thoughtfulness of the gift.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Hitting a wall? Or just feeling my way around one?
Wanted to get some knitting done last night and the night before, but didn't. Not very good for production when you get out of work late, wander for an hour in the dark, and then are so tired that all you want to do is flop into bed without dinner.
One aspect (of many) of holiday time I dislike is the feeling that I have to be in production all these weeks. Producing cookies, producing cards, producing gifts. Ordinarily I knit to amuse myself. I don't particularly enjoy it when I feel I should be doing it. Idem for baking and corresponding. Forget about shopping: even if I weren't in my current state of penury (This month's choice was groceries vs phone and oil. Phone and oil won out.), I'd not hit the stores. I detest shopping even during the non-rush times of the year, so why torture myself even further by doing so during the Christmas rush?
Holidays were nice for a time when I was little, but became miserable later on. When I became of the age where I couldn't get messed with financially by vindictive adults, I stopped going back to the family for holidays. Spent quite a few happy, quiet Thanksgivings, Christmas and New Years alone (How to do that? Simple: lie to all your well-meaning friends who think you shouldn't spend holidays alone. Tell them you have plans.). Recent years have seen me with those I call adopted family and the guy's family. Though am thankful for their taking me in (particularly my adopted mom in Connecticut - had me spend the weekend with her the year my one grandmother died and the other was dying. Made me a stocking and filled it up with toys. Never had a stocking before. Yes, I cried.), I am starting to feel like I need quiet again. No travel, no running around, no screaming children, no nothing. I want stillness and rest and reflection. There's so little of that right now.
It's not just the memory of sad holidays past that's making me feel so scroogelike and unspirited - there are other things: A dying grandfather who's trying to get hospice, but who's getting harassed to have invasive surgery instead. A mother who can't take care of herself, who is befuddled by everything going on, and who calls regularly to post the same reports over and over. A new and improved breast lump. A job where I'm underpaid and unappreciated, where there's no chance to improve myself or move forward. Essentially, I'm just marking time (Only 219 days...but who's counting!) in this limbo until I'm vested in the pension. Expanding my mind, healing my body and keeping up skills are all on hold due to cost of living. (Again - choices, choices...one hour of piano lessons or two weeks' worth of groceries? Another course and textbooks or rent?) I hope that I'm not sounding like I'm complaining. This triaging stuff gets a bit tiresome, is all. Am also feeling a bit homesick after my Thanksgiving visit which was so much fun.
I'm struggling mightily with possible realities here:
I'm weak, I'm whiny. I'm never happy. (There are kids in India breaking bricks for a living, for crying out loud. What's my problem?)
I'm depressed. (First diagnosis: mild dysthymia - glass-half-empty syndrome. Current diagnosis: adjustment problems - under a lot of stress, will get over it.)
I'm at a fork in the road and am struggling to choose which direction to take. (There's a reason why I'm marking time and why I know how long until my anniversary date. Don't want to talk about it too much, as don't want to jinx it.)
How I deal with my present and how I mold my future both hinge on how I choose to view myself. Am hoping that things will be clearer once I get through the emotional fog that the next couple weeks are for me. For now, I'll just do what I must to keep up the strength, to get what's required of me taken care of, to pull myself across the December 31 finish line. All major obstacles now, but still surmountable.
Wanted to get some knitting done last night and the night before, but didn't. Not very good for production when you get out of work late, wander for an hour in the dark, and then are so tired that all you want to do is flop into bed without dinner.
One aspect (of many) of holiday time I dislike is the feeling that I have to be in production all these weeks. Producing cookies, producing cards, producing gifts. Ordinarily I knit to amuse myself. I don't particularly enjoy it when I feel I should be doing it. Idem for baking and corresponding. Forget about shopping: even if I weren't in my current state of penury (This month's choice was groceries vs phone and oil. Phone and oil won out.), I'd not hit the stores. I detest shopping even during the non-rush times of the year, so why torture myself even further by doing so during the Christmas rush?
Holidays were nice for a time when I was little, but became miserable later on. When I became of the age where I couldn't get messed with financially by vindictive adults, I stopped going back to the family for holidays. Spent quite a few happy, quiet Thanksgivings, Christmas and New Years alone (How to do that? Simple: lie to all your well-meaning friends who think you shouldn't spend holidays alone. Tell them you have plans.). Recent years have seen me with those I call adopted family and the guy's family. Though am thankful for their taking me in (particularly my adopted mom in Connecticut - had me spend the weekend with her the year my one grandmother died and the other was dying. Made me a stocking and filled it up with toys. Never had a stocking before. Yes, I cried.), I am starting to feel like I need quiet again. No travel, no running around, no screaming children, no nothing. I want stillness and rest and reflection. There's so little of that right now.
It's not just the memory of sad holidays past that's making me feel so scroogelike and unspirited - there are other things: A dying grandfather who's trying to get hospice, but who's getting harassed to have invasive surgery instead. A mother who can't take care of herself, who is befuddled by everything going on, and who calls regularly to post the same reports over and over. A new and improved breast lump. A job where I'm underpaid and unappreciated, where there's no chance to improve myself or move forward. Essentially, I'm just marking time (Only 219 days...but who's counting!) in this limbo until I'm vested in the pension. Expanding my mind, healing my body and keeping up skills are all on hold due to cost of living. (Again - choices, choices...one hour of piano lessons or two weeks' worth of groceries? Another course and textbooks or rent?) I hope that I'm not sounding like I'm complaining. This triaging stuff gets a bit tiresome, is all. Am also feeling a bit homesick after my Thanksgiving visit which was so much fun.
I'm struggling mightily with possible realities here:
I'm weak, I'm whiny. I'm never happy. (There are kids in India breaking bricks for a living, for crying out loud. What's my problem?)
I'm depressed. (First diagnosis: mild dysthymia - glass-half-empty syndrome. Current diagnosis: adjustment problems - under a lot of stress, will get over it.)
I'm at a fork in the road and am struggling to choose which direction to take. (There's a reason why I'm marking time and why I know how long until my anniversary date. Don't want to talk about it too much, as don't want to jinx it.)
How I deal with my present and how I mold my future both hinge on how I choose to view myself. Am hoping that things will be clearer once I get through the emotional fog that the next couple weeks are for me. For now, I'll just do what I must to keep up the strength, to get what's required of me taken care of, to pull myself across the December 31 finish line. All major obstacles now, but still surmountable.
Always wanted a program on public access or some indie radio station. I could see myself reading the news in a very nasal voice, injecting talking points like those I typically hear in my neighborhood:
***
Rent increases are outpacing some wages? Damnit! Bring back Rent Control! And raise the minimum wage to $16.00/hour, already!
Mitt Romney won't be seeking reelection in '08. Good riddance to that (hiss, spit) Republican. Didn't accomplish anything except not raise taxes for all his wealthy buddies and see the MCAS scores go up in most schools. Standardized testing is racist and classist anyhow, so it's not like MCAS scores mean anything. Elitist. By the way...did you know that he's a MORMON? They're a CULT, you know. Intolerant white, racist heretics.
11 million adults in the US can't read. I blame No Child Left Behind.
Out of state college students bring lawsuit challenging tuition breaks for illegal immigrants. (Sigh, roll my eyes). It's not illegals; it's the undocumented.
Regional CO2 emissions pact stalled due to concerns over energy prices...(cough) Bush is evil, you know, because he won't ratify Kyoto.
Dress codes for juries? Yeah, he's starting with neckties. Next thing you know, brown shirts will be a requirement. Fascist. Voters shouldn't have to serve on juries, anyway. It's a right, not a privilige.
Fraudulent elections in Iraq draw attention away from its illegally-removed former president's unfair trial.
That about wraps it up for now. Thank you, good night, and don't forget that there are only five more shopping days till winter solstice.
***
Could I manage not to crack up for the entire broadcast? Don't know. Better to keep the text-blogging pokerface, then.
***
Snort! Looks like my 'straight face' is a bit too straight:
Unfortunately, some of the criticism isn’t particularly meaningful, such as
Whose intolerant and racist? Wonder if she’s as charitable when the Mormon in question is Senate Minority Leader Harry Reid. Or is he acceptable because he makes Frist froth?
I've asked him to read through my post a bit more thoroughly.
***
Rent increases are outpacing some wages? Damnit! Bring back Rent Control! And raise the minimum wage to $16.00/hour, already!
Mitt Romney won't be seeking reelection in '08. Good riddance to that (hiss, spit) Republican. Didn't accomplish anything except not raise taxes for all his wealthy buddies and see the MCAS scores go up in most schools. Standardized testing is racist and classist anyhow, so it's not like MCAS scores mean anything. Elitist. By the way...did you know that he's a MORMON? They're a CULT, you know. Intolerant white, racist heretics.
11 million adults in the US can't read. I blame No Child Left Behind.
Out of state college students bring lawsuit challenging tuition breaks for illegal immigrants. (Sigh, roll my eyes). It's not illegals; it's the undocumented.
Regional CO2 emissions pact stalled due to concerns over energy prices...(cough) Bush is evil, you know, because he won't ratify Kyoto.
Dress codes for juries? Yeah, he's starting with neckties. Next thing you know, brown shirts will be a requirement. Fascist. Voters shouldn't have to serve on juries, anyway. It's a right, not a privilige.
Fraudulent elections in Iraq draw attention away from its illegally-removed former president's unfair trial.
That about wraps it up for now. Thank you, good night, and don't forget that there are only five more shopping days till winter solstice.
***
Could I manage not to crack up for the entire broadcast? Don't know. Better to keep the text-blogging pokerface, then.
***
Snort! Looks like my 'straight face' is a bit too straight:
Unfortunately, some of the criticism isn’t particularly meaningful, such as
Good riddance to that (hiss, spit) Republican. Didn’t accomplish anything except not raise taxes for all his wealthy buddies and see the MCAS scores go up in most schools. Standardized testing is racist and classist anyhow, so it’s not like MCAS scores mean anything. Elitist. By the way…did you know that he’s a MORMON? They’re a CULT, you know. Intolerant white, racist heretics.
Whose intolerant and racist? Wonder if she’s as charitable when the Mormon in question is Senate Minority Leader Harry Reid. Or is he acceptable because he makes Frist froth?
I've asked him to read through my post a bit more thoroughly.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Link Digression (and a bit of Buffalosehnsuchten)
Following the previous link's links, I found this:
Spent many happy autumn days in Letchworth as a child. I hope to be able to return soon to do so again.
Following the previous link's links, I found this:
Spent many happy autumn days in Letchworth as a child. I hope to be able to return soon to do so again.
When I first saw this flyer last week, I thought it a bit odd, yes. Given that I've known a fair number of selective-kosher-keepers (you know the sorts - those who won't touch shrimp for 'religious reasons,' but think nothing of ordering a cheeseburger), I sort of forgot about it and moved on to other things. It is kind of funny, though.
-WWW, via the Hub.
-WWW, via the Hub.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Is The World All Wrong? Reform Yourself!
Over the weekend, I went spelunking around my boxed-up library. Wasn't looking for anything in particular, really - just wanted to get back in touch with some old friends. During my explorations, I happened upon something I thought to be long-gone: my Roycrofters Motto Book.
Elbert Hubbard's epigrams are pithy gems which never cease to bring a smile and a little nod in agreement from the reader. I can very well see how he'd be able to convince those he did to move on out to Western New York state to start the collaboration that would later be known as the Roycrofters.
Maybe it's time to start sharing some of these mottoes again. I think I'll start with this one:
-Dard Hunter design, in case anyone was interested.
Over the weekend, I went spelunking around my boxed-up library. Wasn't looking for anything in particular, really - just wanted to get back in touch with some old friends. During my explorations, I happened upon something I thought to be long-gone: my Roycrofters Motto Book.
Elbert Hubbard's epigrams are pithy gems which never cease to bring a smile and a little nod in agreement from the reader. I can very well see how he'd be able to convince those he did to move on out to Western New York state to start the collaboration that would later be known as the Roycrofters.
Maybe it's time to start sharing some of these mottoes again. I think I'll start with this one:
-Dard Hunter design, in case anyone was interested.
Y-O-U-R...Y-OU-apostrophe R-E: they're as different as night and day...don't you think that night and day are different? What's wrong with you?
-Strongbad (click on the beefy arm in the last frame of the cartoon for this and other 'rhythm and grammar' tunes.)
The Guy got into another proofreading pissing contest the other day. Corrected some bad punctuation on a Christmas card he was typesetting, then had the job bounce back because the customer didn't like his removal of an apostrophe. My grammar ninja refused to budge on this, citing one of his unimpeachable sources (rule #9, to be precise).
I'll admit fully to having problems with punctuation: colons and semicolons in particular give me headaches. The use of the apostrophe/posessive vs plural puzzle seems a bit of a no-brainer, however.
-Strongbad (click on the beefy arm in the last frame of the cartoon for this and other 'rhythm and grammar' tunes.)
The Guy got into another proofreading pissing contest the other day. Corrected some bad punctuation on a Christmas card he was typesetting, then had the job bounce back because the customer didn't like his removal of an apostrophe. My grammar ninja refused to budge on this, citing one of his unimpeachable sources (rule #9, to be precise).
I'll admit fully to having problems with punctuation: colons and semicolons in particular give me headaches. The use of the apostrophe/posessive vs plural puzzle seems a bit of a no-brainer, however.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Drained.
Wow, I had such hopes for writing thoughts down tonight: about how a day doesn't pass where I don't marvel at the wonderous things available to us thanks to Criterion. About gingersnaps, how they've supplanted tollhouse cookies as my favorites and how I came across my best ever recipe for them. About the Tufts students being good neighbors during and after the Friday storm.
Have all sorts of things I want to talk about, but just can't keep my head from nodding and my eyes from blinking. Guess I should just brush my teeth, comb my hair and go to bed.
Sigh, and it's only 8:30 pm. Maybe will feel better tomorrow.
Wow, I had such hopes for writing thoughts down tonight: about how a day doesn't pass where I don't marvel at the wonderous things available to us thanks to Criterion. About gingersnaps, how they've supplanted tollhouse cookies as my favorites and how I came across my best ever recipe for them. About the Tufts students being good neighbors during and after the Friday storm.
Have all sorts of things I want to talk about, but just can't keep my head from nodding and my eyes from blinking. Guess I should just brush my teeth, comb my hair and go to bed.
Sigh, and it's only 8:30 pm. Maybe will feel better tomorrow.
Part of what makes my apple butter so special to me is that I know which tree the apples came from: the last producing one in an abandoned orchard I visit downeast. The fruit that comes off it is smaller than what one would buy in a store, but larger than crabapples. Green with traces of blush, these feral sweethearts are sourer than anything when eaten raw, but very tasty when cooked with the right complements.
I like to play around with the spices, sweetners and cooking liquids from year to year, so it's never the same recipe twice. This year's batch was really an experimental one, as in addition to changing the spices, I tried a new cooking liquid:
Apple-of-my-eye Butter
I started with:
4lbs apples - washed, quartered, stems and blossom ends removed
Cooked these down in a large pot with two cups of red wine.
Ran the fruit through a food mill. Added 1/2 cup brown sugar to each cup of pulp, then mixed in 4t cinnamon, 3t cloves, 2t nutmeg and 1t berbere (Ethiopian red pepper). Simmered, stirring constantly (important! Don't want the stuff to scorch) first until the sugar melted, then until the mixture turned dark brown, thickened, and jelled a tiny bit (about 20-25 minutes). Poured into sterilized glass jars, then sealed.
Yield: +-12 pints.
I like to play around with the spices, sweetners and cooking liquids from year to year, so it's never the same recipe twice. This year's batch was really an experimental one, as in addition to changing the spices, I tried a new cooking liquid:
Apple-of-my-eye Butter
I started with:
4lbs apples - washed, quartered, stems and blossom ends removed
Cooked these down in a large pot with two cups of red wine.
Ran the fruit through a food mill. Added 1/2 cup brown sugar to each cup of pulp, then mixed in 4t cinnamon, 3t cloves, 2t nutmeg and 1t berbere (Ethiopian red pepper). Simmered, stirring constantly (important! Don't want the stuff to scorch) first until the sugar melted, then until the mixture turned dark brown, thickened, and jelled a tiny bit (about 20-25 minutes). Poured into sterilized glass jars, then sealed.
Yield: +-12 pints.
Numbers that made up my weekend:
# of inches of snow that fell during the storm on Friday: +6
# minutes it took my boss to get from work (Inman Square) to Union Square (about 1/4 mile): 45
# of driveways shovelled Friday night: 3
# of minutes we sat through an awful French film that Hal picked up for me at the library: 10
# of educational films we watched off a DVD from the library: 3
% of these educational films we thought were campy: 0
% we thought were commonsense and should be shown again in schools: 100
# of Japanese film stars from the New Wave era I now have a crush on, thanks to Shinoda's Samurai Spy: 4 (Just learned of the existence of Koji Takahashi.)
# of pints of apple butter made on Sunday: 12
# of toy rabbits knitted so far: 2
# of dozens of gingersnaps baked: 10
# of minutes late in waking up Monday morning because I set my alarm for 6:30 pm as opposed to 6:30 am: 45
# of hours beyond the usual eight hours a night I slept: 1 (So why am I so tired out?)
# of extra minutes that it took me to get to work due to icy sidewalks: 25
# of inches of snow that fell during the storm on Friday: +6
# minutes it took my boss to get from work (Inman Square) to Union Square (about 1/4 mile): 45
# of driveways shovelled Friday night: 3
# of minutes we sat through an awful French film that Hal picked up for me at the library: 10
# of educational films we watched off a DVD from the library: 3
% of these educational films we thought were campy: 0
% we thought were commonsense and should be shown again in schools: 100
# of Japanese film stars from the New Wave era I now have a crush on, thanks to Shinoda's Samurai Spy: 4 (Just learned of the existence of Koji Takahashi.)
# of pints of apple butter made on Sunday: 12
# of toy rabbits knitted so far: 2
# of dozens of gingersnaps baked: 10
# of minutes late in waking up Monday morning because I set my alarm for 6:30 pm as opposed to 6:30 am: 45
# of hours beyond the usual eight hours a night I slept: 1 (So why am I so tired out?)
# of extra minutes that it took me to get to work due to icy sidewalks: 25
Friday, December 09, 2005
See how I fall (like the snow).
December's hitting worse than usual; am in such a dark space right now.
Still, there are little things that can bring a happy tear to my eye. Stepped out the front door onto a soft blanket of snow and into small squall. Immediately, my absolute favorite Christmas song in the whole wide world showed up to accompany me to work.
***
Hal told me the other day that Kate Bush finally, after something like 12 years, has a new album out. Though we were both awfully disappointed with The Red Shoes, I at least have great hopes for Aerial.
December's hitting worse than usual; am in such a dark space right now.
Still, there are little things that can bring a happy tear to my eye. Stepped out the front door onto a soft blanket of snow and into small squall. Immediately, my absolute favorite Christmas song in the whole wide world showed up to accompany me to work.
***
Hal told me the other day that Kate Bush finally, after something like 12 years, has a new album out. Though we were both awfully disappointed with The Red Shoes, I at least have great hopes for Aerial.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Comfort food.
Knowing that I'd be having a rough day today, I packed myself a nice lunch of vegetarian sushi:
nori sheets
black beans cooked in soy sauce
rice (sadly not sushi rice) cooked sticky-style with a teeny bit of vinegar and sugar
straw mushrooms
cucumber
some spicy mayonnaise I made from mayo and vietnamese chili pepper garlic paste
plenty of wasabi and pickled ginger
some rice seasoning
Made myself three hand rolls (think sushi ice cream cone) and had them with a cup of green tea. Made me feel a little bit better, anyway.
Knowing that I'd be having a rough day today, I packed myself a nice lunch of vegetarian sushi:
nori sheets
black beans cooked in soy sauce
rice (sadly not sushi rice) cooked sticky-style with a teeny bit of vinegar and sugar
straw mushrooms
cucumber
some spicy mayonnaise I made from mayo and vietnamese chili pepper garlic paste
plenty of wasabi and pickled ginger
some rice seasoning
Made myself three hand rolls (think sushi ice cream cone) and had them with a cup of green tea. Made me feel a little bit better, anyway.
Well, today was my (bi)annual "lie back and think of England" exam. Such a nice way to get to know my new OB/GYN. She seemed nice enough, though I don't think I'm going to like her as well as I did my old doctor. Perhaps it's due to a different sort of bedside manner. Perhaps it's due to lack of history between us.
The part of the exam that usually bothers women the most goes by like a breeze for me. I can sit back, talk, even joke around a bit.
(I remember one time when the nurse assistant told me to relax. The doctor shook his head and insisted that NO ONE could EVER relax in my position. Contrary thing that I was, not only did I show them them I could, I started humming Wave in an effort to get them to relax.)
What really bothers and upsets me is the breast exam. I force myself to do it monthly, the doctor performs it, but it still horrifies me to the point of almost passing out or throwing up. In the past I have passed out, coming to propped against a nurse. Today I didn't do that. Made sure that I'd eaten a good breakfast and everything so as not to faint. I did shield my eyes with my free hand, wince and start to feel the tears well up. The weird feeling came over me, as well, but I did manage to stay conscious.
I apologized for being such a baby, that nothing actually hurt. Explained that I'd always been this way. The doctor asked if I was that afraid of cancer; couldn't honestly say that that was the whole reason, but did admit that that was part of it. She told me that in all her career, she'd only met two people now who'd been that upset about an exam, and tried to offer me some reassurances.
I know that I'm cystic: I feel them every month during the hormone surge. Even more so if I've not drunk enough soy, have been stressed-out, or have indulged in too much of three things: caffeine, red wine, chocolate. Already irritated and swelling tissue becomes even more painful if I don't. I can live with that.
I know that I'm young: Though there seems to be a higher incidence nowadays (1/9 women, as opposed to 1/10 before - could be due to more and earlier diagnosis), it's very rare in younger women. Add to that the fact that, as far as I know, no one on my mother's side of the family has ever had breast cancer. My dad's sister did recently, but she's fine now. But that's supposedly of less genetic importance to me than my mother's side.
I also understand intellectually that I'm dealing with some residual trauma from a long-past incident. I just wish that the emotional in this case would catch up to the intellect. It has in so many other areas, why not with my chest. Have worked so hard for so long to let go of pain, both psychological and physical. Why is there still this fixation on one part of me that don't particularly want to change?
Anyway, made it out of the doctor's office in one piece. Couldn't get out fast enough. Of course, in my haste to leave, I left something important behind. Now have to go back to retrieve it before closing time. Thank heavens this is all on my walk home.
The part of the exam that usually bothers women the most goes by like a breeze for me. I can sit back, talk, even joke around a bit.
(I remember one time when the nurse assistant told me to relax. The doctor shook his head and insisted that NO ONE could EVER relax in my position. Contrary thing that I was, not only did I show them them I could, I started humming Wave in an effort to get them to relax.)
What really bothers and upsets me is the breast exam. I force myself to do it monthly, the doctor performs it, but it still horrifies me to the point of almost passing out or throwing up. In the past I have passed out, coming to propped against a nurse. Today I didn't do that. Made sure that I'd eaten a good breakfast and everything so as not to faint. I did shield my eyes with my free hand, wince and start to feel the tears well up. The weird feeling came over me, as well, but I did manage to stay conscious.
I apologized for being such a baby, that nothing actually hurt. Explained that I'd always been this way. The doctor asked if I was that afraid of cancer; couldn't honestly say that that was the whole reason, but did admit that that was part of it. She told me that in all her career, she'd only met two people now who'd been that upset about an exam, and tried to offer me some reassurances.
I know that I'm cystic: I feel them every month during the hormone surge. Even more so if I've not drunk enough soy, have been stressed-out, or have indulged in too much of three things: caffeine, red wine, chocolate. Already irritated and swelling tissue becomes even more painful if I don't. I can live with that.
I know that I'm young: Though there seems to be a higher incidence nowadays (1/9 women, as opposed to 1/10 before - could be due to more and earlier diagnosis), it's very rare in younger women. Add to that the fact that, as far as I know, no one on my mother's side of the family has ever had breast cancer. My dad's sister did recently, but she's fine now. But that's supposedly of less genetic importance to me than my mother's side.
I also understand intellectually that I'm dealing with some residual trauma from a long-past incident. I just wish that the emotional in this case would catch up to the intellect. It has in so many other areas, why not with my chest. Have worked so hard for so long to let go of pain, both psychological and physical. Why is there still this fixation on one part of me that don't particularly want to change?
Anyway, made it out of the doctor's office in one piece. Couldn't get out fast enough. Of course, in my haste to leave, I left something important behind. Now have to go back to retrieve it before closing time. Thank heavens this is all on my walk home.
Nappy writes about a sensitive issue, someone gets abusive/too confrontational, she gets tired. I'm going to miss her terribly, but I do understand. Sometimes it only takes one bad apple to spoil the bushel, and I'm still kind of bitter about mine.
Good luck with the potential home-move (a possibility for me as well), enjoy the holidays, take care of yourself. I'm rooting for you.
Good luck with the potential home-move (a possibility for me as well), enjoy the holidays, take care of yourself. I'm rooting for you.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
I'm sorry, but this is reminding me too much of this.
(Speaking of earworms, whenever I see a headline in the news for that transplant surgery, the waltz from Face of Another immediately starts playing in my head. This is a problem, as it takes days to get rid of.)
(Speaking of earworms, whenever I see a headline in the news for that transplant surgery, the waltz from Face of Another immediately starts playing in my head. This is a problem, as it takes days to get rid of.)
Monday, December 05, 2005
Winter around the Mystic.
Yesterday, the sky was an odd grayish-yellow, the snow fell thickly, covering the dormant tree branches and dead reeds with dustings of powdered sugar.
I love exploring familiar places when the seasons change: details one might not have picked up on before are highlighted. The senses seem shocked back to life and for a time, they skirt saturation.
Even winter is a fertile time if one is open enough to it.
Yesterday, the sky was an odd grayish-yellow, the snow fell thickly, covering the dormant tree branches and dead reeds with dustings of powdered sugar.
I love exploring familiar places when the seasons change: details one might not have picked up on before are highlighted. The senses seem shocked back to life and for a time, they skirt saturation.
Even winter is a fertile time if one is open enough to it.
My Flower for a Busy Monday
Is a neon custard cone from Anderson's in Buffalo, NY. (My favorite's vanilla, by the way.)
Anderson's is a Buffalo institution, started in NYC, but relocated by its homesick founders. Though it's grown to at least a half dozen locations that I can readily name, my favorite is the Sheridan Drive store, which is period-perfect 1946:
Is a neon custard cone from Anderson's in Buffalo, NY. (My favorite's vanilla, by the way.)
Anderson's is a Buffalo institution, started in NYC, but relocated by its homesick founders. Though it's grown to at least a half dozen locations that I can readily name, my favorite is the Sheridan Drive store, which is period-perfect 1946:
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Hoop! Time to plastic up the windows. Time to maybe even turn the heat on, too. "Putting another sweater on" just isn't cutting it anymore.
Since oil's up to something extortionate like $2.39/gallon, I'm wondering about getting some insulating curtains as well. Would these be a good investment, or just overkill?
Since oil's up to something extortionate like $2.39/gallon, I'm wondering about getting some insulating curtains as well. Would these be a good investment, or just overkill?
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Aww, gee.
It's stuff like this that makes me wish a little bit that I'd have bred when I was supposed to.
Sigh.
It's stuff like this that makes me wish a little bit that I'd have bred when I was supposed to.
Sigh.
I have to agree with this fellow that Payzant did the right thing in not sanctioning a day off for students to attend a rally. Maybe I'm just an old fuddy-duddy or hopelessly out if it, but I don't see how cutting school honors Rosa Parks's memory. Then again, judging from the roster of groups supporting the action, I'm willing to bet my lunch money that this whole thing has very little if anything to do with Rosa Parks anyway.
As for Chuck Turner's statement regarding the BPS decision, it probably should be taken with a fairly large grain of salt. He does, after all, have a history of making some wild accusations.
-via Universal Hub.
As for Chuck Turner's statement regarding the BPS decision, it probably should be taken with a fairly large grain of salt. He does, after all, have a history of making some wild accusations.
-via Universal Hub.
What I like about my neighborhood I
Yesterday morning was unseasonably warm with lots of rain and wind. It was also trash/recycling day for my block. Noted that my neighbor across the street's bag for paper recyclables had torn and the contents were fluttering up the street. Though running late for work, decided to Do the Right Thing and run around collecting the flyaways. Weighted what I picked up down and headed off to work.
That evening after I got home, I heard a knock on my front door. Answered it to find my across the street neighbor standing there with a big bouquet of flowers and his Definitive Holiday Mix CD for 2005. Told him that this was all unnecessary, that I was just being neighborly. His answer was that what I did was not the normal neighborly thing to do around these parts and that he really appreciated it. Beat down my normal resistance to gifts of flowers from men and accepted them as graciously as possible.
Yesterday morning was unseasonably warm with lots of rain and wind. It was also trash/recycling day for my block. Noted that my neighbor across the street's bag for paper recyclables had torn and the contents were fluttering up the street. Though running late for work, decided to Do the Right Thing and run around collecting the flyaways. Weighted what I picked up down and headed off to work.
That evening after I got home, I heard a knock on my front door. Answered it to find my across the street neighbor standing there with a big bouquet of flowers and his Definitive Holiday Mix CD for 2005. Told him that this was all unnecessary, that I was just being neighborly. His answer was that what I did was not the normal neighborly thing to do around these parts and that he really appreciated it. Beat down my normal resistance to gifts of flowers from men and accepted them as graciously as possible.
What I like about my neighborhood II
This morning, had to get up early for some pre-physical bloodwork. Made my uncaffeinated way over to the new doctor's office over in Union Square, got through the paperwork, waited. Finally, a young woman led me over to the little office where she planned to poke me, prod me, draw blood, etc. While doing all this, she made some small talk about how long I'd lived in Somerville, how I liked it there, etc. Somehow during the conversation, we figured out that I worked with her sister in law. Laughing about how small the world was and how many experiences we had in common due to this new connection made the bloodletting, the EKG (something I'd never had before), and the asthma test (another novelty) much easier to get through than usual.
This morning, had to get up early for some pre-physical bloodwork. Made my uncaffeinated way over to the new doctor's office over in Union Square, got through the paperwork, waited. Finally, a young woman led me over to the little office where she planned to poke me, prod me, draw blood, etc. While doing all this, she made some small talk about how long I'd lived in Somerville, how I liked it there, etc. Somehow during the conversation, we figured out that I worked with her sister in law. Laughing about how small the world was and how many experiences we had in common due to this new connection made the bloodletting, the EKG (something I'd never had before), and the asthma test (another novelty) much easier to get through than usual.
What I like about my neighborhood III
Ali was away for the past couple of months to Egypt visiting family, eating well, relaxing. Though I'd become friendly enough with the people minding the store, I did miss him. Over the years, the morning coffee stop had turned turned into cafe time with him, as if we had time, I'd drink my cup with him and we'd get into solving the world's problems. In the summers, he'd bring me tomatoes, peppers and basil from his garden. In the fall, I'd save a few jars of whatever jams and jellies I've made for him and his family. This little time very often makes my day.
Last week, he finally returned, but I left for Buffalo. Didn't get to see him and ask about Home until yesterday. He put me up to date on things - how the food was, how nice it was to see the family, how much better the weather was. Assured me that no one was shooting people up in the Mean Streets of Alexandria while he was there.
Told me to wait a second and went into the stockroom. He came back out with a glittery little thing and said that it was a gift from Egypt. I looked at it and laughed - "really Ali, the best gift is your getting back here safe and sound!" His answer to that was that, though he didn't feel like coming back here for the hardest season of the year, he couldn't forget his friends. We're part of what makes America great for him.
My little candle painted to look like Tutankhamun's funerary mask sits on a shelf next to my computer monitor. I love to look at it; it makes me smile.
Ali was away for the past couple of months to Egypt visiting family, eating well, relaxing. Though I'd become friendly enough with the people minding the store, I did miss him. Over the years, the morning coffee stop had turned turned into cafe time with him, as if we had time, I'd drink my cup with him and we'd get into solving the world's problems. In the summers, he'd bring me tomatoes, peppers and basil from his garden. In the fall, I'd save a few jars of whatever jams and jellies I've made for him and his family. This little time very often makes my day.
Last week, he finally returned, but I left for Buffalo. Didn't get to see him and ask about Home until yesterday. He put me up to date on things - how the food was, how nice it was to see the family, how much better the weather was. Assured me that no one was shooting people up in the Mean Streets of Alexandria while he was there.
Told me to wait a second and went into the stockroom. He came back out with a glittery little thing and said that it was a gift from Egypt. I looked at it and laughed - "really Ali, the best gift is your getting back here safe and sound!" His answer to that was that, though he didn't feel like coming back here for the hardest season of the year, he couldn't forget his friends. We're part of what makes America great for him.
My little candle painted to look like Tutankhamun's funerary mask sits on a shelf next to my computer monitor. I love to look at it; it makes me smile.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
