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We've made great progress in the house buying department. We close on Friday. We've started making plans for the big move over Thanksgiving weekend. So Tuesday, Nov. 21 will be my last day in the office, and then I've got a bunch of vacation days to use up.
That's all. *sigh*
That noise you hear is me falling off my diet.
But the Ben & Jerry's made a satisfying thud when it hit my stomach.
Yay! We have a house! A little farther away from the park than the other we bid on, but I think it was all for the best. Lots of recent upgrades and the owner has moved, so we should be able to close and get in there pretty soon. Like maybe around the end of the month. Some photos here. I'm off to pack!
I had to post this link....
Y'all (or should I say yinz?) should know that apparently, the Bill of Rights doesn't apply in airport security zones. Go ahead. Click over and read it. I think witty criticism is unnecessary. I simply say: WTF?!
And as long as I've be roused to blog...
We made a bid on a house a week or so ago and got outbid. So we're having another go-round tomorrow. If all goes well, we'll make another bid on Monday. Once we have a closing date, we can start making firm moving plans. It'll be wonderful when the whole family (me, JE and the kitties) can be living together again.
I've actually started to do something about my weight. I've been Fast Tracking for about a week and today is my juice fast day (don't let the book title fool you--it's a 10-day plan). Radically cutting all the crap out of my diet--well, I wouldn't call it fun--but it probably was necessary.
Despite the fact that I've gone caffeine-free, my energy is pretty good. I'm sleeping more, still less than 8 hours, but closer. Mostly I notice that I just have to be more honest with myself about when I need rest.
I really miss chocolate. A couple of times, I've thought that I ought to go to a health food store for sugar-free carob snacks, but I haven't gotten around to it.
During my fast "prequel," I felt like a was force-feeding myself vegetables. I actually got sick of eating. It's funny. I'm usually ravenous in the evening, but, in the past week, my evening thought was, "God! I have to each what, now? Aren't I done yet?"
If I had more time to cook, I might be able to make it more enjoyable. But I'm just trying to stick to the diet. Ridiculous organization was the only way to keep me on track, so twice a week, I organized crucifers and leafy greens in plastic containers, supplements in baggies, checklist on the Treo. Crazy. Organized.
I had a couple days of achy detox symptoms. Hot baths and saunas did wonders. Overall, it's been a good experience, so I think I'm going to jump right into another cycle. Then I'm going to have some Ben and Jerry's Half Baked.
BTW, I haven't been entirely silent lately, I blogged twice on the UGA blog.
It's been a crazy, crazy couple of weeks. Jon Erik is thrilled in his new position. We've been house-hunting in every spare moment. We're working on making a bid on a house in Regent Square (yay!) that needs quite a bit of work (sigh). More to follow.
And it's 9/11. Since everyone else is reflecting on where they were, etc., on that day five years ago... I can't help but think of what I had planned to do that day: talk to my former boss about working remotely so that I could move to Ohio to be with Jon Erik. And here we are five years later and I'm doing it again in reverse. Oh, the irony! Oh, the urge to sigh once again.
On top of everything, I was rear-ended into another car last week. The driver didn't have a legal and up-to-date licence and has been sentenced to pay out of pocket. Pay my insurance company that is. Insurance is good. Again, sigh.
The stress of the last week has started to really get to me. I'm simply a nervous wreck during my commute, and, throughout the rest of the day, I've been experiencing a lot of random hickups. What can I say--I have my father's nose and my mother's esophagus.
But at least I have kitties to keep me company. They are both very needy (especially when I've returned from weekends in Pittsburgh) and unusually inactive. They always have been more active when both Jon Erik and I are around. With Jon Erik now in Pittsburgh (except for the odd weekend) the kitties aren't finding much inspiration to perform. I plan to take them with me this coming weekend. They aren't themselves when they travel, but at least Jon Erik will get to see them.
"Just because you know the alphabet does NOT make you a writer." Lisa Chiu, Office of Undergraduate Admission
Amen.
For inspiring this statement, we'd like to thank whoever did the 2006-2007 Parent Handbook. Their extravagant and inconsistent use of completely unnecessary quotation marks on pgs 38-39 was truly moving.
Since I've spammed every address book I possess, I don't suppose there are many people I know out there who who haven't heard that Jon Erik and I will be moving back to Pittsburgh.
Jon Erik was been offered his dream job at Winchester Thurston School in Shadyside! He's thrilled to have this opportunity and we are both delighted to be returning to our families and old friends in our old hometown.
Winchester Thurston is a terrific private PreK-12 school with a very strong performing arts focus. He'll be teaching chorus, general music and drama, plus he'll be on the directing team for the middle and high school musicals. The HS musical regularly wins local Gene Kelly Awards (no pressure).
Although Jon Erik will start work in the 'Burgh in September, I'll be hanging out a bit longer in Cleveland at Case. We're looking to buy a house, and it will take us a while to get our act together. I'm thinking I'll be here until October, which will give me the chance to look for a job and (mostly) finish Case's new recruiting campaign. The new viewbook, published in July, has been getting rave reviews and I'm sure will be a kickin' portfolio piece.
Now if I could just stop daydreaming long enough to finish the updates to my resume.
Meeko's evil twin turned up on stuff on my cat.
Seth Stevenson address a topic today in Slate over which I've been... uh... scratching my head for weeks.
So I haven't blogged for a while.
Around July 4th, Jon Erik and I took a long weekend trip to Boston. Great place to be for the fourth. We got in on Saturday. Sunday, we did the freedom trail walking tour. See photos and captions here. Monday we headed out to Cape May to hang out by the ocean.
The fourth had more cool things going on than we really had the time or energy to do. In the morning, we went to hear the annual reading of the Declaration of Independence from the balcony of the Old State House and then walked down to the harbor to watch the Constitution go on its annual cruise (photos here). In the afternoon I napped because we were out late listening to Jazz the night before. Then we headed to over to the Esplenade for the big July 4 Fireworks shin-dig. The Fireworks were awesome -- the best I've every seen. TONS of people there. We got there about 2 hrs before the symphony started and the concert area was already so full that they weren't letting any more people into that part of the park. So we just found a good place to watch the fireworks. If we had been any later, we'd have found trouble finding a spot -- and that was four hours before the fireworks! Joe Perry and Steve Tyler were there with the Boston Pops and Dr & Mrs Phil were the MCs. The Pops brass section doing the guitar riff for Walk this Way was especially entertaining.
Wednesday we headed back.
While we were in Boston, the kitties were vacationing at Elena's. A few interesting photos of them in one of their favorite hiding places here. When we got back to our place, Meeko decided to go on another adventure.
We were hanging out and unpacking when Jon Erik found the front door open. After we got ourselves and the cats home, he had gone to the gym and must have not shut the door the whole way when he came in. Electra was in the window, but Meeko was nowhere to be found. So we each took a stairway and worked our way down through the building. I found him under the back stairs on the ground floor, crouching in the corner. He must have gone exploring and got too scared to find his way back. He was totally freaked out. Silly kitty!
Of the two of them, I never thought Meeko would be the one to go exploring. Usually Electra is our little trailblazer.
I have found a way to keep Meeko out of the drawers under our bed. Two words: coat hangers. The aftermath of locking him out of the drawers hasn't been pretty. He took it out on on Electra pretty good for a few days.
Since then, we've just been hanging in the heat.
Last Monday, Jon Erik and I celebrated our second anniversary. The cotton anniversary. Jon Erik likes the tradition of the traditional gifts.
I feel like I did a very guy thing. I got him clothes that he'll have to exchange. I wasn't exactly mailing it in-he's been talking about needing to get some new clothes. But it wasn't the perfect thing either, because nothing was the right size. He lost some weight not too long ago, so HE doesn't even know what the right size is anymore.
He, on the otherhand, got me a just-right, thoughtful thing: 1,000 thread count sheets. Yes, they exist. And they feel fabulous!
And then we had a yummy champagne dinner at Sawyer House, topped off with a chocolate raspberry souffle.
Ah, the joy of camera phones!
In feline news, our boy kitty is working out with weights. A while back, he started to crawling in the space behind the drawers under the bed. He'd work a drawer open with his paws, get in the drawer and then squeeze over the back of the drawer into the space behind it. There were two problems with this. One, it left the drawer open for us to trip over and two, he often dug out the contents of the drawer. Clothing and claws really aren't a good combination.
So in an attempt to keep him out of the drawers, we tried using free weight plates, first in front of the drawers (more tripping ensued), and then in them. The weights in the drawers worked for a week or two, but now he's occassionally working them open again. My boy is getting so strong.
Even more disturbing is that I once interrupted him AND Electra playing with a drawer. It's just bad when your cats start teaming up on projects of destruction together.
So because Jon Erik can't live without background noise, we've got America's Got Talent on here. It reminds me of the Gong Show from the 70s. And for the record, I never could stand Regis Philbin.
So I'm off this week doing nothing, just recouperating after shoving the viewbook off to press. In honor of doing nothing, I give you this:
Dave Barry's review of the book Doing Nothing.
Of course, even when one does nothing, one is doing something, however basic... sleeping, eating, etc. So to be specific, I've been sleeping, doing laundry, cooing at the kitties, playing Civ IV, and breaking in my new computer.
Yay! I got a new computer. A Toshiba Core Duo, 14.1 wide screen, 1 GB RAM, DVD burner, dedicated graphical memory. Woo hoo.
This about says it all. Stolen from Lisa.
For those of you that don't know, Jon Erik is in a production of The Fantastics at Willoughby Fine Arts throughout most of June. He's playing one of the fathers.
The Fantasticks
Book by Tom Jones
Lyrics by Tom Jones
Music by Harvey Schmidt
Based on Les Romanesques by Edmond Rostand
Directed by Jacqi Loewy
June 9, 10, 16, 17, 23 & 24, 2006 at 8:00 p.m.
June 11, 18, & 25, 2006 at 3:00 p.m.
Sign Interpreted/Audio Described Performance June 25
Corning Auditorium, reserved seating
Matt and Louisa think they understand love, but it is only through experiencing the obstacles of the outside world that they learn how true their love can be. Sword fights, silliness, song and magic make up this timeless story of youthful romance. The world's longest running musical, The Fantasticks' unforgettable score includes "Try to Remember" and "Soon It's Gonna Rain." (Rated G)
For tickets:
http://www.fineartsassociation.org/performance.html
The voice continued."Please do not be alarmed," it said, "by anything you see or hear around you. You are bound to feel some initial ill effects as you have been rescued from certain death at an improbability level of two to the power of two hundred and seventy-six thousand to one against — possibly much higher. We are now cruising at a level of two to the power of twenty-five thousand to one against and falling, and we will be restoring normality just as soon as we are sure what is normal anyway. Thank you. Two to the power of twenty thousand to one against and falling."
"Five to one against and falling ..." she said, "four to one against and falling ... three to one ... two ... one ... probability factor of one to one ... we have normality, I repeat we have normality." She turned her microphone off — then turned it back on, with a slight smile and continued: "Anything you still can't cope with is therefore your own problem."
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams
Sure, life is uncertain, but work has seemed especially chaotic lately. The influence of the above quote has been surfacing from my subconcious lately in response to the chaos.
Today, in a draft, I actually wrote the following note to my designer:
[The probability there will be further page order changes is 1 to 10 against and falling.]
Back from Jim's wedding. A few pics on Flickr.
It was a wonderful wedding. Jim was happier than anyone's ever seen him. Mary was more gorgeous than usual. The ceremony, performed by a Methodist minister friend of Jim and Mary's, was warm and personal. Folks from Jim's band(s) over the years provided the music, some of it, I think, written for the occassion. Most gratifying for Jon Erik and I was how Mary's family seemed to just open up and embrace us--it was really magical.
At some point toward the end of the evening, a made a tipsy revelation. I have something I've never had before... a little sister. Wow! That's kind of cool. I was running around sharing my revolution with people and ran into Mary's little brother, Paul. Hey! Now I have a little brother too. I'm so used to be the youngest--Paul encouraged me to abuse him and I just didn't know what to do. But he had some helpful tips like, "Here, give me a nuggie," he said, leaning forward so his head was in easy reach.
I have some thoughts about family and weddings and such, but that will have to wait for later.
It's getting late and I headed back to the viewbook crunch tomorrow. Just another week or so and I should have more time to blog.
Wow! I'm not a student anymore, but if I were, I would so check out http://www.easybib.com/.
There's this great scene in Broadcast News where Holly Hunter's character sits in her hotel room. It's evening. And seemingly with some effort, she breaks out in tears. The idea is that this is what she does periodically when time allows, just to blow off steam. I'm so totally there.
"I will love him and pet him, and hug him and hug him, pet him and pet him, and I will call him George."
Benny the Cat, Hoppy Go Lucky, Looney Tunes
So, last night I was blogging about being overcommitted and overwhelmed. Now for the big question, what to do about it.
The obvious answer is to cut back on a few things. In terms of my weekly schedule, there is only one thing that can go: MaDaCol. In truth, my body has been crying uncle about this one since the beginning of the semester. Weird neck pain, blisters, I've just not wanted to listen to it. Tech week is only a week off and I feel awful about bowing out this late in the process, but I look at the tech week schedule and just cringe.
In terms of more long-term projects, the Peru trip just isn't looking like a wise move right now. What with the budget crisis at work, who knows if I'll be employed this summer. The trip money might be a well-needed cash cushion. And the "sign" that maybe this wasn't going to happen this year -- drum roll please -- is that Jon Erik and I have been too busy to book the trip yet.
Ah, maybe next year.
Here we are again. Me, the laptop, my cough and a cup of Nighty Night. On the loveseat. 5:10 AM. It's still midnight dark, but an early bird is singing like it's dawn.
This cold took a turn for the worse on Friday, about the time I developed pink eye. So Saturday morning I hauled myself off to the walkin clinic for eyedrops and antibiotics.
Great folks at the local walkin clinic. They dispensed scripts and kitchen medicine and I felt like they really listened to me.
And I didn't feel so bad about asking for help that I had to cry about it, for which I'd like to thank my therapist. Her name is Karen, the name of one of my best friends, and her coloring and a few of her mannerisms remind me for all the world of Jon Erik's Aunt Mary. Sweet woman, Aunt Mary.
Anyway, I've long had this problem going to the doctor. Revealing my weakness, asking for help, the shame of my body betraying me--usually its so hard that I can't keep back the tears. Which makes me look like a sick nutcase. It's good to see some progress.
Really, I've come to see, my body isn't betraying me. It's just trying to tell me something. It's trying to tell me that I'm overwhelmed and overcommitted. There have, of course, been other signs, but I ignored them, so here we are.
The preliminary sign was loosing things: my Palm's stylus, Case ID (aka my parking lot entry key), and my ATM card. Then, in the face of these losses, body tension. I'd wake up with fists clenched, arms clutched up against my chest, jaw set.
I'd like to keep writing. There's more to say.But I'm feeling too sleepy.
The Nighty Night has done its thing.
This week I've had a cold. I think I've whupped the worst of it, but the cough is putting up a good fight, especially at night.
Takes me back my days as a semi-professional insomniac.
For all you insomniacs out there, let me recommend Nighty Night tea by Traditional Medicinals. You'll find it some grocery stores and most health food stores; if that fails, try GNC. It's got passion flower, chamomile, hops and a bunch of other calming herbs.
I'm drinking some right now, and I only plan on blogging until my cup is empty.
Insomnia, the popularity of sleeping aids and our collective sleep debt have been in the news alot lately. [Find your own links. It's 4:47 and I'm too lazy to do it for you.] I've always avoided sleeping pills. Having done so, I can tell you that sometimes, sleep just takes work.
And its work worth doing. Studys may only now be documenting the ways in which lack of sleep is bad for us, but I've always known that. For various reasons that I won't go into right now -- my cup isn't that big -- I've always been really aware of the dip in performance that comes with lack of sleep.
My prescription: a bath hot enough to leave you feeling like an overcooked noodle, gentle yoga stretches, a cup of Nighty Night, and the development of mind-clearing meditation skils.
It'll only cost you time and spare change for tea, and the relaxation skills can help you combat stress generally.
Tea done. Nighty night.
It's been crazy busy lately, but I couldn't pass up the chance to see Morgan Spurlock present at Research ShowCASE. He was every bit as amusing and interesting as I thought he would be. I have a picture of him, but I just don't have the energy to upload it right now. The kicker is that I stopped for Wendy's salads on the way home.
I did a bit of wandering among the research posters after the Fat Food Nation panel and ran into a couple other writers from different departments. With gallows humor, we all shared what we'll do if we get laid off.
The first goodbye -- it's official (see "Personnel")-- for me is because the head of my division is heading for greener pastures. *Sigh* with all the budget cuts, I guess it's inevitable that this is the only first of many goodbyes.
It's a depressing thought but the worst is not knowing how it'll all play out.
Yes, I'm back. Had a wonderful, relaxing time. I got more relaxed than I have been in a long time. I don't think I could actually live without cable and broadband like Q does, but the media diet fast was good for me.
I'm really, really bad at remembering to take pictures. I remembered to take the camera with me, but the only time I was moved to take pictures was on the beach, and all I had with me at the time was the camera on my Treo. So here you go.
Sue wrestling with Sebastian while Jeremy and Rowan look on.
Sue and the kids climbing down rocks. Note ocean in background.
Water. Lots of it. Whales live there.
More thoughts on the trip over the weekend.
The amount of time spent on this project is disproportionate to how much I care about it, not to mention how much it will impact our... goals.
-rrm
Yesterday morning, well after my alarm clock failure and first coffee spill on a white sweater... just after the announcement of the latest chapter of the Hundert broo-ha-ha, and just before my second coffee spill on said white sweater... I started to feel the overwhelming need to get out of Cleveland.
I discovered a cheap airfare to Portland, ME, and decided to visit my friend Q. With cursor on the "book" button, a placed a cell phone call to Q, and IMed to my boss. And so I'm off to Maine tomorrow for a few days.
For many years after college, Q and I lived in the same city. There was something comforting about having her near, being able to just show up on her doorstep in tears after a bad date or a bad day.
Being a grownup really sucks in some ways. There's so much busy-ness that I have to schedule dates with my husband. Or maybe the world has just changed. I hear my peers, parents of young children, discussing playdates. I don't remember a lot of playdates. Oh, maybe with cousins who didn't live closeby or friends who had moved. But regular play could be found by running down the street, knocking on a door and asking if so-and-so could come out to play.
Maybe I just miss that spontenaity. In the day to day, there's this predictable, precarious balance of routine obligations, daily stresses, the things I do to unwind--unwind a bit--just enough to maintain equilibrium. In the week to week, there are the shrink sessions, recovery from the shrink sessions, the workdays, the Saturdays partially lost to catching up on sleep. At least in the last month, there's been no shocking news of sick parents. Perhaps that's why I've embraced this wobbly routine.
I feel sort of bad about leaving my hub this weekend. I think he needs a break too. But he'll have spring break in a few weeks. This summer we'll have a vacation together. And maybe this weekend away is just what I need to get into a smoother groove.
My husband finally did it!
When he first started as the choir director of Geneva Jr/Sr High, he inherited library full of pop music, which is pretty much what the students and audiences expected from the choirs. Last night, he blew everyone away with a program Renaissance, Baroque and Classical Choral Music from Vienna, accompanied by a professional string quartet, an oboeist, and a Continuo/Piano player.
It was a great way to celebrate the HS choir's first gig in the new school auditorium.
So way to go honey!!
For the last couple weeks, I've had ridiculous pain in my neck and shoulders. It started as a stiff neck, turned into something much worse, and has since subsided into simple sore muscleage.
I was at the psychiatrist and she gave me a muscle relaxant to take at bedtime. Oh. My. God. I can't remember the last time I slept as well as I did last night. I had so much more energy, focus and cheer.
It's easy to think of the mind as a computer, but I recently though of an extension to that analogy. Between the hardware of biochemistry and neurology, and the software that enables us to do all the things we do is the operating system. What I think of as the OS, Jung would have called the personal unconciousness, our personal myths, world view, values, our beliefs about the world and the way we fit into it.
It's sometimes hard to explain therapy to people. Most people don't get why the stuff in my head that doesn't work for me just can't be turned off like a peice of bad freeware. But therapy is more like sorting out a problem with the operating system. Figure out the problem processes. Replace the missing drivers. Uninstall the junk. Reinstall everything else. Dig up those obscure configuration options and tweak them til the damn thing works. Tweak. Reboot. Tweak. Reboot.
I did the most embarrassing thing the other day. Upon reading that there is a move afoot to build a Wallace and Gromit statue in Bristol, UK, I actually sent a message to the Bristol city government expressing my support for the idea.
This
is slowly turning into something like this
Shall I wear it when I go here?
Well, it finally happened. And on my birthday no less. I got half way to the Village (from Tomlinson) on the Greenie before realizing that I had forgotten my RFID-bearing Case ID, which is needed to get my car out of the Village parking garage, at my desk.
This was especially frustrating because while I was waiting for the greenie, the nextbus sign said the shuttle was "Arriving." For ten. solid. minutes.
I seem to recall reading somewhere on http://planet.case.edu, the theory that the GPS tracking system for the commuter shuttle gets confused because that shuttle stops twice at UH. But that doesn't explain why the tracking system can't figure out that the commuter shuttle isn't at Crawford when it isn't at Crawford. For ten. solid. minutes. I gotta tell you, I check nextbus before I leave my desk and whether I wait 2 minutes or 20 for the shuttle is still a complete crap shoot.
And then there is that whole can't-get-my-card-sans-ID business. I know. I have my moments of forgetfulness. Should they be penalized with 45-minutes of laps around campus just to be able to drive home. (Yes, I am just pissed because it wasted 45 minutes of my birthday.) If only that d@mn RFID chip COULD be implanted in my left index finger, my car would never be stuck in the Village again.
And y'know what. The RFID privacy freaks have it all wrong. If nextbus can't figure out where a GPS-enabled shuttle is, then how the heck is anyone going to be able to track me via an RFID chip in my left index finger.
So go ahead, chip me.
This was good. I'm glad I didn't turn out to be Beaker or one of the old farts.
| You Are Rowlf the Dog |
 You're a cool dog, and you always present a relaxed vibe. A talented pianist, you can play almost anything - especially songs by Beethoven. "My bark is worse than my bite, and my piano playing beats 'em both." |
Stolen from Martinimade.
Jon Erik won a role in The Fantasticks, one of his all-time favorite musicals. He'll be playing the part of Matt's father.
In other fantastic news, we're planning a summer vacation to Machu Picchu. Time to start researching shots and breaking hiking boots!
| Pure Nerd 65 % Nerd, 43% Geek, 43% Dork |
| For The Record: A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia. A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one. A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions. You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd. The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendences associated with the "dork." No-longer. Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful. Congratulations! Thanks Again! -- THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST |
My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
|
| Link: The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test written by donathos on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test |
... I've encountered in the last few days.
Sunday evening it was snowing like crazy when I drove into University Circle for MaDaCol rehersal. Right here on MLK drive, I saw a car that had careened off the road and landed nose down in the creek to the east of the road. I mean, the car was perpendicular to the ground.
Yesterday, I had an appointment with one of my health professionals and she had two PUPPIES in her office. They were spaniels of some variety, a couple months old, and adorable! She plans to train them to be therapy dogs. I think they are already on their way.
The results of the 2006 Admissions Marketing Report - an annual award competition judging everything from TV ads to brochures and websites to magazines - have been released.
Case took the Gold Award for Total Recruitment Package.
Plus, we were among a few Gold Award winners from all categories to be named Best in Show. According to the site, this recognition means that we “exhibited the highest production standards, creativity and professionalism,” and “captured the attention and admiration of our panel of judges.”
The report is available in PDF.
So in other words, the Marketing Team in the Office of Undergraduate Admissions rocks!!!
As many of you know, my last job was often less than satisfying. I'm unbelievably happy to be part of a great and very supportive team. Thanks to Lisa for organizing endless photoshoots and being my outgoing self when necessary. Thanks to Cindy for great (and brand-compliant) design. And thanks to Bob for... well just being a great manager and a great guy. (And I was very impressed by your response to this win; I never expected to see you fall to your knees and pull up your shirt a la Brandi Chastain while singing "We are the Champions" in the middle of our office. It's a pity your shirt got hung up on your tie.)
Now I'm going to indulge in a totally immodest moment. Thanks to me!!! This package has been around for a couple years and has taken silver the last two. I'm what's different this year, so I must have made the difference.
Next year, we're going to totally rock their socks off. The intro piece is out, the first set of brochures is off to the printer, and every time Kim, our new designer, sends me a layout, I cry for how good she makes my copy look.
OK. Let's go back a bit, because I've done a horrible job of documenting my projects.
Back in October when Karen was here, we visited a yarn shop and I was smitten with all the colors and textures of yarn. So a bought a ball of novelty yarn, which promised to be very forgiving of my beginners mistakes, and created this skinny accessory scarf:
Then, I made a few dishcloths for my mom. I gave them to her for Christmas. For my true love, I gave him a couple skeins of baby alpaca (couldn't figure out how to knit him something without him knowing) and knit him this scarf:
Then, I started to think that all this knitting crap I was acquiring needed a kitty-proof container. Karen has a excellent knitting bag -- big as the great outdoors with lots of pockets and a springy straight-hex closure on top. After trolling JoAnn for cool remnants and searching the Internet for the closure hardware, I created this:
Yes, It's big and as of yet, it has no handles. I'll get to handles; I just haven't desided exactly what I want yet. I'm most proud of the design I made for the cord that attaches the tassles. It's a little hard to see, since it's red on red, but the cord is coiled into a cat design:
Then, I remembered this fabulous mohair sweater that I never wear because - let's face it - it's never cold enough to be able to stand a bulky mohair sweater. (Unfortunately, I forgot to get a picture of the sweater.) I decided that it really wanted to be a wrap/shawl thing. I was warned about the difficulty of unknitting mohair, but I was not deterred. Actually, it wasn't that bad, probably because the sweater has been worn so infrequently, the fibers never got too tangled. So here's the yarn:
And at the bottom of that monsterous bag still sits the Van Gogh cross-stitch project - I just haven't had the brain for it.
I've had a couple sessions with the shrink at this point and this week, I've found myself thinking about the mind.
The Goldberg Contraption in My Head
I have this image of my mind as a great big Goldberg contraption, a la the old mousetrap game. As I go through life, stimuli -- words, situations -- are like balls of various sizes, colors and consistency. To make meaning of these balls, they roll around through the contraption, getting sorted out, until they find the rut in which they most aptly fit and plop into a container *plink* of definition.
Some of the ruts and sorting mechansisms came into being at moments that made a great impressions on me. Others appears through repeated use. Though the whole contraption is multi-leveled and -layered, I kind of think of ruts like paths in the earth. Some made by pacing, some by flash floods, others by the flow of careful irrigation. Some are planned paths and others shortcuts that emerged between other ruts.
The Placebo Effect
I think placebo effects are great. They are actually my preferred way to be comforted or cured. So often, placebo effect is dismissed. It's an anomoly, a sort of margin of error. X percent of the control group thinks it's better although they are just taking some inert substance.
But isn't that the best we can hope for? To be cured by something with no side effects? Give me a placebo any day.
Even if the placebo effect is all in one's head, it's like -- to extend my image of the mind -- their's been this pathway of disease and suddenly the mind alters that pathway to be not so uncomfortable or even just plain gone. It does that just because it expects a change.
Of course the placebo effect requires belief. I read this great article in The Atlantic a few years ago in which a traditional doctor who has been taking an alternative medical treatment tells skeptics not to explain their skepticism to him, "Don't ruin my placebo effect." As you read on, if you are skeptical of the treatment I've been getting, don't ruin my placebo effect and post statements of your skepticism.
Changing the Ruts.
This week in therapy I tried EMDR and I think this is really going to work for me. When I try to go in my mind to the memory we worked on, it's like the earth has been smoothed and resurfaced. The ruts associated with the memory are all gone. It's really cool. I vaguely remember the incident, but the details are a little fuzzy and their no emotion associated with it. Trying to concentrate to recall the details and the emotion is, well, boring. I find my attention going elsewhere.
What's really strange is that I get the same feeling when I try to recall incidents that share the same theme as the one we worked on.
Well, much to everyone's surprise, it appears that my father is going to live for a while longer. After two weeks of sedation, antibiotics, dialysis and life support, he's breathing own his own. He's been transferred to a long term care facility for continuing dialysis and other treatment.
This is no small feat, considering that he arrived at the hospital two weeks ago with a gangrenous gall bladder, had a heart attack, and suffered kidney failure. Those of you who know of my father will not be surprised that the surgeon discovered quite a bit of alcohol damage to his liver while removing his gall bladder.
He always explained his good luck after the most stupid, intoxicated, life-threatening incidents by saying that he wasn't good enough for heaven and the devil wouldn't take him.
Guess it's still the case.
It's also still the case that I just can't bring myself to see him. I have no hope that any good could come of it.
So I'm seeing a psychologist instead. There's hope there.
Alarm. Snooze. Alarm. Snooze. Alarm. Snooze. Alarm. SNOOZE...Late.
Late, late, late, late, late. Shower. Alarm. Smack. Dress. Blow dry hair.
Feed the whiney boy kitty. Grab Treo.
Coat. New hole in arm left armpit lining? No scarf? Shoulder seams hit mid-bicep.
Fingertips barely peek out from the arms.
The pretty girl kitty sits on the piano, starring at me with a
Cheshire grin, like she's been waiting for this moment all morning.
That's what happens when I grab my husband's coat. If only I could have located mine.
Thought of the day:
"If you're always trying to cater to everyone, you have no soul."
-Peter van Stolk , founder and CEO, Jones Soda
News of the week:
The SAGES Cafe [Gods! the SAGES people need to do something about that page!] is now carrying pies and pizza's from Aladdin's. Woo-hoo! Middle Eastern food! And it's a great bargain.
Pictures from Christmas now on Flickr!
I went to the dentist today for the first time in ten years. I got a clean bill of oral health. Yeah! I'm lucky to be someone who doesn't accumulate a lot of plaque.
In other news, my father is in the hospital. It is quite possibly terminal. It's hard to know how to feel about it given that we haven't spoken since... uh... about the time of my last dentist's visit. Somehow it's emotionally exhausting all the same.
Final thought for now... new pictures from the holiday break to come!
You all will (no doubt) be thrilled that I may have found a new black twin set. All cotton, machine wash and dry. The body and sleeves are a sturdy but fine knit and has a crocheted shawl collar (doesn't look as old-ladyish as it sounds). The body of the shell is also a plain knit with a crocheted mock turtle neck. I sort of expected the mock t-neck to bother me--and had the evil thought of removing the crocheted part--but I can report not noticing it after half a day.
The only thing that may require modification are the buttons. The buttons on the cardi are small, plastic and black. The buttons on the crocheted part of the t-neck are large (too large for their holes) and crochet-covered. I can do better.
Woo-hoo. An excuse to go to the craft store. Like I needed one.
I have a number projects going right now.
There is the monstrous van Gogh cross stitch of a bajillion colors that I haven't quite finished. I'm down to the last eighth, and it's by no means the most difficult eighth, but my heart's just not been in it.
There is the baby alpaca scarf I'm knitting for JE. Oooo. Baby alpaca. Possibly the software fiber on the face of the planet. It's going quite well and I should finish this week. And then I will miss the baby alpaca.
There is are a couple skeins of chenille. I bought them because I wanted to knit something and am only capable of scarves at the moment. So I started a scarf, wasn't happy with the width of it, ripped it all out, and there it sits.
All this stuff sits in a pile between the loveseat on which I typically lounge and cat tree. This invites way too many curious paws. So I decided I needed a big tote. My friend Karen has a stitching/knitting tote I particularly admire. So now the pile includes the makings for a tote.
I found a great remnant for the bulk of the body--3/4 yd of a quilted Asian-inspired brocade--about a month ago. Then I tracked down a big straight-hex-open frame--which is the niftiest thing about Karen's bag. A couple nights ago, I safety-pinned the fabric to the frame and stuffed my stuff into it. It wasn't quite wide enough that I could easily get my cross stitch scroll frame in and out of it, and wasn't quite as deep as I would like. Another trip to Jo Ann fabric and I found a remnant of heavy black canvas that would be great to use for the sides and bottom--keeping the brocade for the front and back--thus increasing the height and width. Still need to find straps. Jo Ann seemed to have had a run on the width of black strapping I wanted.
I'm also eyeing up a sweater in my chest of drawers that might want to be reknitted into a shawl. It's a gorgeous sweater whose fatal flaw is that it is way to warm to actually wear. It's mohair. My brother bought it for me ages ago in Italy. OK. Maybe one could wear it skiing in the Italian alps, but I don't do much of that. Hmmm... Another project for the pile?
*Sigh*
There was so much I planned to do over this break. Blog, knit, blog about knitting projects, figure out my new digital camera, upload pictures to the blog.
OK. So I got some knitting done. Somehow, a few days visiting in Pittsburgh, and then I was felled by a mighty cold.
Now I just want my throat to stop hurting.
Forget cabin fever in February. I can't take late fall and early winter -- the gradual loss of daylight working up to the darkest day of the year. I actually notice by the first of the year that light is increasing.
Two more days and then the light starts increasing. Maybe then I can start to overcome the urge to hibernate.
Can't wait.
Ta-da! I completed my first MaDaCol last night.
Four concerts and what seems like a dozen run-throughs in the last week. Whew! I lost a few pounds.
I think I'll do it again. It was fun and great exercise. I'm remembering that it's much easier for me to get exercise on a regular basis when it's an appointment on my calendar and I'll be letting people down when I'm not there.
Of course, today, my back/left-hip and everything from knees down is achy.
So I went to the gym this afternoon to hang out in the whirlpool and sauna. I've actually been going to the sauna pretty often over the last month. As the weather has been getting progressively colder, I've started to crave the sauna's ridiculous heat.
The sauna is not a particularly popular spot at my gym and I think it's all the better that I usually have the place to myself. I like to lie naked on my towel, close my eyes and pretend I'm somewhere scorchingly hot with the sun beating down on me. I stay there until a puddle forms in my navel. I stay until the skin on the tops of my knees feels burnt and I have to drip water from my waterbottle onto them.
I think the best thing is going out into the cooler air, taking cool shower and -- most importantly -- having the cool feel good. Then outside, coat open, crunching through the snow to the car.
Snow is a lot easier to take when your core body temperature is significantly above normal. Must be why the Finns are so into saunas. Those Finns are onto something.
I'm going to rant now. My office has this social committee, to which I was nominated because I'm new. That's fair. I jokingly call it the antisocial committee because the first meeting had two of the members at each other's throats, one wanting to quit and the rest of us trying to crawl under the table.
So I suppose it's only group dynamics that somebody needs to step up and be the leader or nothing seems to get done. I seem to have been been left holding that bag.
Now it's not the best idea to put the introvert in charge of social planning. Since I'm good at getting things done, I would normally be fine with it, but I have had the absolute worst time of things lately. And it's just left me feeling like I want to crawl under a rock and not come out until springtime.
So I've been getting emails from my fellow committee members with ideas and I've said, "Great. Schedule a meeting," or "Go for it" or whatever. *crickets* And then the invitable follow up, like I was supposed to get it done and I'm like "Would you please put that rock back on top of me! I'm not done hiding yet."
I'm not misanthropic or anything. I mean, I'm in MaDaCol and this is performance week and I'm fine with hanging out with all those folks. I'm looking forward to this weekend's visit from Elena and Karen and so forth. But maybe that's the key. Elena and Karen are people who accept me and are cool with me just being. Our interactions aren't based on the expectation that I need to accomplish something.
Thanksgiving went pretty well. Everyone in my family managed to be out of the hospital. Mom kept the turkey down passably well. It's good to have low expectations, I suppose.
It's weird to see my mother, like, 40 pounds lighter than me. No kidding. She's lost that much weight. (And me, not so much.)
I'm hoping to sweat off a few pounds this week since tech for this weekend's MaDaCol dance performances starts tonight. And thus, don't be surprised if I don't post again until Sunday. It's that expectations thing.
I don't have a very green thumb.
The only plants I can keep alive are those that can take a large amount of neglect. I've been given beautiful hothouse plants that died within months because they were so used to being pampered.
So now I buy little ones and neglect them from the start. It's survival of the fittest. Many of them kick the bucket. But the ones that survive are tough little buggers.
My latest acquisition seems to be dying. I'm going to give it a chance in another room -- it's in the bathroom, which is very warm -- but it's not looking good.
I'm slowly facing the fact that my black cardigan is toast. Oh, I can continue to wear it around the house, etc., but it's life as a staple of my wardrobe is over. And one of the things I loved so much about it was it's going-anywhere-ness, it's wear-with-anything-ness. That and it's machine-wash-and-drying-ness and 100%-cotton-ness and 4-season-ness.
*sniff*
It's fault? The elbow area of my mouse hand-side, long since thin from excessive computing, is developing a rather large hole.
*sniff*
I've been casually looking for a replacement for a few months. Nothing out there seems to measure up. This one is too thin, that one too bulk, another lay-flat-to-dry, most less that 100% cotton. And some are just too plain. My favorite black cardigan (part of a twinset) was not quite plain. The knit was different on the top than the bottom, which gave it a good drape.
It's made my recent shopping experiences rather unpleasant, although, were it not for that, they would be unpleasant due to the preponderance of pink in this year's pallette. Pink. My least favorite color. I simply cannot get myself to wear it. It reminds me of Peptobismal, which reminds me of nausea. So I go into store, look at the sea of pink, and within five minutes I'm feeling queasy. Blech!
I saw a phenomenal lecture by the late Stephen Jay Gould back in the mid 90s. His topic: Although we like to think that we live in the Age of Man, by all scientific standards, we really live in the Age of Bacteria.
That thesis has been on my mind all weekend since I got the news that my mom is back in the hospital with an infection they are having trouble pinpointing. For those of you keeping score, this is her fourth infection since her surgery just over a month ago and the third trip to the hospital via the emergency room.
It's been something like six decades since the discover of antibiotics. If you think the war on drugs and the war on terrorism are interminable and unwinnable, take a look at our war on infection. There are fewer casualties than there used to be, but we're not making any decisive wins.
It's hard to watch. I just want to hear that she managed to get a full night's sleep or that she kept a day's worth of meal down. Going a week without a fever would be good news. I'm tired of hearing about how many hours she spent in the ER before being admitted. Or that their taking yet another CT scan and giving her, a diabetic, yet another quart of sugar-saturated CT contrast to drink. (Actually, I happened to be on the phone with her yesterday when the nurse came in the with the contrast, and because I made a fuss, she got a sugar-free version. Yes, folks it does exists. And for the record, I knew it had to and now I'm pissed that she's had to drink the sugary version several times before and then get shot up with insulin, which she's always been able to avoid because she manages her diabetes so well.)
The raw, jagged edges of modern medicine and the medical establishment are visible. Giving sugary solutions to diabetics. Hunting and pecking for the right antibiotic. Hundreds of dollars of prescriptions out of pocket because she exceeded her drug limit.
Exceeded her drug limit trying to recover from an infection she caught in the hospital.
I had a deep talk with my brother this evening. I'm weirdly relieved that I'm not the only one worring that this could be what kills her and -- she's always been so healthy -- inwardly raging that this isn't supposed to be what kills her.
This bacteria isn't supposed to win. Because it's supposed to be the Age of Man.
The mom update is that she's still got pneumonia in one lung and is having to skip the vacation she's be looking forward to.
I'm less distressed by the whole thing, but it has me feeling very weary.
Then again, a lot of things leave me weary these days, like the loss of daylight. A form of seasonal affective disorder. SAD. Some get depressed. Some get sleepy. I get sleepy. But when I'm being unusually honest with myself, I remember that sleepiness is my response to overwhelming emotions and chaos. Perhaps for me, weary = depressed.
Perhaps the whole mom thing has one upside. I've felt really sad. And that sadness is very different from the "fatigue" I've been struggling against this past year. It's a great relief really. I've not been entirely comfortable with taking medication for my fatigue. Rather an off-label use. But maybe Nancy is right and I do have always had a low grade depression. Or maybe the doctors aren't indulging me in my delusion that it's fatigue when they tell me neurotransmitters can be the cause.
There have been fall days when the sky is so blue, I just want to swim in it screaming the word "autumnal" over and over again (autumnal being my favorite word). -- Paul Ewing
Fall is my favorite season. Early fall is my favorite season. I love the dramatic colors of the leaves against the shockingly blue sky, the slightly spicy smell of dried, crushed leaves, and the temperatures (finally) low enough to allow for the wearing of sweaters.
Within the last year, I've found another thing to love about fall. Lower temperatures mean kitties deprived of the allures of open windows and looking for shared body heat. You got to love snuggly kitties, even if it is because they are cold and bored. We got Meeko and Electra in the fall, and their autumnal snuggliness always reminds me of when we first brought them home. Electra--quite put out about being removed from her first family--standing on my lap, looking me straight in the eye as if to say, "Who are you and where the hell am I." Meeko--having arrived with a rather severe cold--rubbing his runny nose against my face and crying incessantly during the weeks it took the antibiotics to kick in.
In the spring, the open windows draw them away. In summer, they are too hot to want to be close. By winter, I'm tired of them crawling all over me. But fall is perfect kitty snuggling weather. Happiness is a pair of warm kitties.
I guess more particularly, I love early fall. Today it was in the forties and raining. Frankly, I would prefer snow. Snow, at least, can be dusted off. I don't mind the cold as long as it is a dry cold. I had meetings on all corners of campus today, and think I spent the better part of the day being cold and damp. Blech.
Ack! What a hectic couple of weeks. I think my mom is finally getting better. She's at least eating better, if not sleeping much better. To sum up, since I've been so remiss about blogging: My mom surgery about a month ago and it's been one thing after another. Post-op infection, back to the hospital, where she caught the flu, which turned into pneumonia, that sent her back to the hospital. They aren't entirely suprised because she's 70 and diabetic, but she's had such good health and always taken such good care of herself, that it's been very unexpected.
And I've found to be it more emotionally difficult than I expected.
Somewhere around the pneumonia episode, I realized, on some very deep level, that my mother wasn't going to live forever. I mean, I've know that intellectually for some time now, but intellectual knowledge comes cheap for many life lessons.
I am so looking forward to the weekend. It'll be the first weekend in a month that I'm not either away or entertaining company. My introvert self is screaming for solitude. My practical self is dying to do something about the mess that is our kitchen.
There are a few things on the calendar. Saturday, Jon Erik and I are going to a play at the Willoughby art center, where he has been teaching. I'm actually looking forward to it - I'll get a chance to meet some of the people he's working with there. Sunday AM, he's the guest soloist at a church in Painesville. Luckily, they have a later service, so I'll still get to sleep in.
So with the days getting shorter and sunrise getting later, I've really noticed that it's hard for me to get up in the dark. So I got one of those alarm clocks that gradually turns on a light before it starts beeping. I highly recommend it. I got one from Hammacher Schlemmer but there are others out there. This one actually doesn't get very bright, but it does the trick for me.
Mom's surgery went pretty well, but it was a rough weekend. She came home Friday despite having some trouble getting up on Thursday. She seemed to be doing really well until Saturday in the late afternoon. Suddenly dizziness and fever. Followed by hours and hours in the emergency room. At 2 AM they finally found her a room, treating her with potasium and IV antibiotics.
After a day or so of antibiotics and poking and proding they sent her home on Monday. Jim and Mary were back in town so I came home to Cleveland. Unfortunately, she's been struggling with nausea and bouts of fever. The assumption has been that she's been fighting a post-surgical infection and stomache upset from all of the drugs (and lack of her usual diabetes medication). However, it turned out that she's been suffering from something far more mundane: the flu.
About the time she returned to the hospital, many in the ER and patient floor nursing staff were coming down with it.
So I'm off to Pittsburgh tomorrow. Mom had surgery yesterday and I'll be helping her husband Dennie keep her company for the next few days. When I talked to her today, she was pretty drugged up. It's weird because my mom hardly ever drinks. I'm not used to her slurring her words and having trouble standing up. It was kind of frightening. I could be in for quite a weekend. I'm not sure I'm up to helping her bathe or anything.
More frightening is that I will be without broadband for... like... days. Cable but no Tivo. Ack. And no kitties!
* Google Maps Pedometer
* Census Data
and my personal fav
* Find out where you'd end up, if you dug a hole thru the earth
Poor pukey kitty
Throws up on the windowsill.
Electra, why there?
I have this in my LinkBlog, but I think it bears calling to your attention. Cats In Sinks is the funniest thing I've seen in a looooong time. Check it out when you are up for a good laugh.
Photos of the Weiner Dog races are up. They had costume contests as well.
There are also a few pics of the kitties and our first anniversary.
Happy viewing.
I've been glued to Katrina coverage this past week. I don't remember when I was last so entralled by a news event -- probably 9/11.
It's just so tragic from so many directions -- the poor getting stranded, the government being inept, Bush being an especial ass, politians congradulating one another. I read a really great blog piece with some socioeconomic thoughts here.
Every once in a while I need a break from the tragedy of the hurrican and I've taking to noodling around on Craigslist NOLA, particularly the temporary housing pages. There's something very soothing about all those people all over the place offering their RVs and spare bedrooms to the victims of the hurricane, offering to drive half way across the country to pick them up.
For a more comic form of relief, we headed out to the Berea Oktoberfest today to see the Dachshund races. If you ever get the chance to see such a sight, I highly recommend it. Especially after a couple steins of beer. Not only did the dogs race (about 10 feet), they also competed in costume contests. Stay tuned for pictures.
The Tivo is now hooked up to the wireless network.
Yea!!!
Now I can schedle stuff over the internet.
Happy Birthday Jon Erik. I love you honey!
The primo gift I gave to Jon Erik was a Toshiba DVD Recorder with TiVo. Unfortunately I didn't get to wrap it since I bought it online and he was here when the delivery came. In fact, the delivery guy called first to see if anyone was home to deliver it and told him what it was. Doh!
In a previous post I complained that the perfect multimedia center didn't exist. Well, this thing is pretty darn close. It's a Tivo, It's a DVR, and it can even hook up to our home network.
Sweet!
Of course Jon Erik spent the better part of the day playing with the parts, running to radio shack for some....something-or-another, setting it up and playing with it live. Needless to say, the planned trip to the gym didn't happen.
He's a pretty happy camper. Or, as we usually say, he's a happy kitty.
Speaking of happy kitties, Electra has been having a ball an empty shoe box on Jon Erik's dresser. It's a perfectly Electra-sized box. It's SO cute when she sits in it with just her head hanging over the side -- She looks like a disembodied kitty head.
I finally figured out Flickr, so now I have pictures. You may have to page down to see them. I'll fix that later. I may even upload more later. Now I'm going to bed.
I just saw a commercial for Oktoberfest in Berea. They are going to have Weiner dog races. Weiner dog Races!!! How cute! And really what could be better than drinking lots of beer and then watching a wienerdog race?
The only thing more odd than weinerdog race is that Oktober in September on Labor day weekend. I've noticed this since moving to Ohio. They do Oktober whenever they damnwell please. There is a church in Willoughby that does in in July.
That's just WRONG. It's not Julyfest. It's not September fest. It's Oktoberfest.
Work with me, people!
Am I being terribly German by thinking they should have it in October?
I must come clean. We had Weiner dogs when I was a kid. Great dogs. I have a soft spot for them.
It's the tragedy of ensemble that we have to do it TOGETHER. -- Robert Page
For years, I sang with Robert Page in the Mendelssohn Choir of Pittsburgh. Bob used the quote above whenever a song turned into a train wreck in rehersal.
It's a great quote. Applicable in a lot of other circumstances.
Take group dynamics, for example. Group dynamics suck. I had the misfortune this week of attending a meeting that made me want to crawl out of my skin. The supreme irony of the situation is that it was a meeting for the office social committee.
What always amazes me about such moments is how the many issues are at play in addition to the one being discussed. Instead of a trainwreck of notes, it was a trainwreck of issues.
I know. I've been MIA. Hmmm. Where have I been...
Well, the last weekend in July, I sang at Blossom. Did the Planets Saturday night. What a crowd! So many people that I couldn't find "my peeps" there after the concert. Doing the Planets is always surreal. Since the women always sing off stage, you are removed from both the orchestra and the audience. Watching a conductor who is not the performance's conductor. Barely hearing the orchestra and being able to trust nothing of what you hear -- not the beat and sometimes not even the pitch. A few years ago I did the Planets with the Pittsburgh Symphony, conducted by John Williams. You would think it was a big thrill, but it wasn't. We only saw him for 2 seconds when he dismissed us from the orchestra rehersal.
Sunday it was Alexander Nevsky at Blossom. Ah the joy of singing in Russian. At least I got to be on stage. Unfortunately it was hot up there.
Then there was a few days and a long weekend in Pittsburgh. Lots of barbeques, copious visiting and a few hours of kayaking on the river.
Uh... That's all I got.
For a while now, I've been enamoured with the concept of "perfect things." Beyond Martha Stewart's "good things," perfect things are compact, multi-purpose, elegant... and more.
Take, for example, the humble swiss army knife. It's perfect. It fits in your pocket, does many things, and all the bits retract into a nice, smooth package.
Retractable laptop cords are perfect. I think everything should have retractable cords.
In fact, if anybody knows of a super light (2 pound) laptop with a 17 inch screen, 8 hour battery life, and built in retractable cords, let me know.
I'm so enamored with the idea of perfect things that I get frustrated when I can't find a perfect whatever-I'm-trying-to-buy. In this case, I started to think about what to get Jon Erik for his birthday and he made a suggestion that we should buy DVR. So I start looking at DVRs, Tivos, Media Center PCs. *Sigh* It seems like there ought to be a perfect convergence product, but the tech just isn't there yet. Every product seems to have some mish-mash of features but a longer list of limitations.
Maybe next year.
Last month I auditioned for the Cleveland Symphony Orchestra chorus, and although they didn't pick me for their limited openings, I did get into the Blossom Festival Chorus.
Surprisingly, I don't find myself unhappy about it. I've gotten used to not having my evenings booked with choir rehearsals year 'round. I had a moment of panic after auditioning about whether I really wanted to commit to something so time consuming.
So if you want to hear me, I'll be singing:
Sunday, July 31, 2005 at 7:00 PM at Blossom
Prokofiev: Alexander Nevsky
AND
Saturday, July 30, 2005 at 8:30 PM Blossom
Holst: The Planets (featuring NASA videos) (last movement features women's voices)
Lawrence Krauss, narrator
For more info, http://www.clevelandorch.com.
In the fall, I'll likely be making my dance debut with MaDaCol. A bunch of the folks in the office are into MaDaCol and after their last concert at Cold Stone Creamery -- while very high on ice cream -- I kinda agreed to join the gang.
So it seems that I may have kicked the choral addition that held me in it's thrall for so long. Perhaps in a future post I shall ruminate on that.
You all will be pleased to know that my sister's old cat with cancer is doing much better thanks to acupuncture.
For the curious, the cat is held while the needles are inserted, but after the initial insertion, she is calm and simply rests, and thus doesn't need to be restrained. ...Except for the first time when she ran around the house (this veterinary acupuncturist makes house calls) leaving a trail of needles in her wake. Bo-Purr's courage has been such an inspiration that my sister has been emboldened to consider acupuncture for herself.
Not much time for blogging at the moment, but a few thoughts...
1. If you are a Jon Stewart fan, he is in rare form this week. Must be the new set.
2. I've been watching the new series 30 days -- I'm not much into reality TV, but it's fabulous. I think the most interesting thing about it is isn't driven by conflict as much as on people coming to together. People come to understand and respect people on the other side of a topic's fence and they often end up being changed by the experience.
More this weekend... maybe.
Yes. The viewbook is finally printing. This is good because I think if I felt compelled to proof it one more time, my eyes would have fallen out.
I really like my job. The environment is just good for me.
Like to day. After the three of us in the group reviewed our Big Kahuna of a project, we sat down to talk through the changes and issues and Bob says, "We should have ice cream for this," or something. And I said, "let's go." And we went to the University Hospital Atrium and got ice cream and discussed the project. See, now, that's what I like about Bob's managerial style.
Lately, my work has been all about updating the undergrad admission student view book. So I've been communicating with a lot of students.
Every once in a while, I can't help but play career counselor (just an eetsy-weentsy bit), and say (especially to the liberal arts majors), "There are so many careers and so many paths out there! Don't sell your self on law school just because you were an English major!"
I know English major who became web designers, IT gurus, technical writers; an art majors who has been a librarian, professional organizers, and feng shui consultant; a philosophy major who has done various things in marketing, writing and now is doing some personal coaching.
Life is long. The world is wonderfully messy. That's the fun of it.
Is it my imagination, or is the speed of life, the speed of change, increasing? It's like running downhill. Your feet have to keep moving, ever faster or you'll fall on your face.
ED Drugs for the mob? This can't turn out well...
I love "oddly enough"
The morning, Meeko had one of his periodic hissy fits over the ceiling fan. Which was odd because the fan was off and had been off for sometime.
The first time in Meeko's life that we turned on the fan, he had a fit that went on for hours -- crying, circling the room, head wobbling along with the fan's motion. So week left it on continually until he got used to it. Then turning it off set him to whining. For a while, he seemed to have gotten used to it in all of its states.
I don't know what his problem is now. Perhaps he's noticing how dirty it is.
Who's to say. Cats are weird.
I can't believe it's almost May and it's snowing. In protest of the weather, I refused to leave the house today. Yesterday wasn't better -- 40 and raining -- all in all a good day to get dialated at the eye doctor's.
I hate picking out glasses. I always feel like it's the biggest fashion choice I make. It's implications go on for years because I get get new glasses so infrequently. I also get really stuck on whatever I have, and have trouble seeing myself in something new. So picking glasses tends to take me a looong time.
I think I was in JR hi when I announced to my mother that I was going to start a journal. "You better watch out!," she warned. "You sister's journal was stolen by some girls at school at they made fun of what she said in it."
I had not thought of taking it to school, but the message took. Journaling was dangerous, inner thoughts are dangerous.
Needless to say, I began immediately. But I did hold some fear discovery, and perhaps with good reason. My most prolific period of journaling was during collage. I kept them private, and the people in my life respected the privacy. When I shared them, people took what I gave them as the gift that was intended and didn't take it as an invitation to browse unvited. If anyone ever read them without permission, I never knew about it.
Except... Except... My boyfriend read my journals senior year and didn't like what he read. We fought, nearly broke up, should have broke up. And in pain and anger and spite, I destroyed all my jourals.
I regret very few things in life, but I regret destroying those journals. I miss those old journals. They were beautiful; collages on each cover.I should have just ditched the boyfriend, the subsequent breakup was inevitable. I was just too young and stupid to know it.
In retrospect, the boyfriends transgressions wasn't so much about journals being bad as it was about him wanting something I wasn't willing to give him. It was symbolic. There were lots of things he wanted from me, sometimes demanded of me, that I wasn't willing to give him. Like marriage, for example. The journal incedent was symptomative of a larger disease in our relationship.
As is par for the course for me these days, I'm just d@mn tired of being afraid of all the things my mother told me to fear. I'm tired of being afraid of painful events replaying in my life. I enjoy being able to keep up with what my friends are doing on their blogs. I've always had an impulse to write, if only for myself.
For me there is only the trying, the rest is not my business.
Fine! I finally have a blog. It took me a while to decide whether I wanted one. (We'll ignore that internal debate for now.) While I was debating, my procrastination exercise of choice was dithering over the design of my blog.
First, I played with designing my own. Then I got impatient and wasted time searching for the perfect, free, pre-made template.
So here it is. A rubber ducky theme.
So what's the significance of the rubber ducky, you ask?
My sister is 12 years older than me. Meaning she went off to college at the same time that I entered first grade. For years, her image of me was frozen in time. The joke was that, in her mind, I wasn't quite old enough for a rubber ducky. Not at 12. Not at 16. Not at 21.
She finally got me my first rubber ducky for my college graduation, forever cementing in my mind an association between rubber duckies and "commencements."
Thus commences the blog of Trish del Fish.
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