The cream rises until it sours

No, I did not get a promotion at work, but my job title did. They posted for the position my co-worker left vacant when he won the position in another department we were both vying for. The posting carries the same title as mine, same level as mine, but I can't do 90% of what they list under skills and responsibilities. At first, I felt bad about myself over this, like I should magically be able to perform those duties despite having no training or coaching in them. But I hired in as a programmer, lo those many years ago, and that is what I am. If it is not what they want anymore, they can sever me. Please.

I am one of those follow-your-bliss proponents, but ironically, my bliss has emigrated. If I want to write code these days, I will have to relocate to Riga or Bangalore or Bratislava. It would be something to consider were I younger, but not in the twilight of my career. And I don't begrudge the off-shore IT people. Everyone needs a job, whether they are in India or Indiana. I consider it a passive way to redistribute wealth.

Meanwhile, closer to home, the yoga studio I used to frequent has split. Again. A couple of months ago, one teacher left to open her own studio, taking a few other teachers with her. Now, the remaining studio has split in two. I stopped attending classes there because the levels of intensity and the class schedule did not suit me anymore. Instead, I have been practicing at home, which I find I really enjoy. I can select which poses I want, hold them as long as I want, rest when I'm tired, gear things up or crank things down to suit my energy level, etc. I don't have to drive anywhere, worry about whether I shaved my pits, take chlorophyll prophylactically in case I get gassy, wonder how germy the floor is, etc. Now I am wondering if part of my unease at the studio was due to the developing rifts. For now, though, I am content to practice at home.

Speaking of germs, I have started using my neti pot. I bought it quite a while ago, then let it moulder under the bathroom sink while I slowly gathered the other materials I deemed necessary for its use: a plastic measuring cup (did not want a glass one in the bathroom), a measuring spoon, non-iodized salt. Then all that stuff sat for a long time before, suddenly, I crossed some line and decided to go for it. One thing I have discovered is, a lot of snot accumulates in my sinuses every 24 hours. Another thing is, the chlorine in my tap water stings my sinuses, so I use filtered water. We'll see if it helps with that little virus I suffer from periodically.

For the record, I finished Trauma Farm and started Bright-Sided.

What else is new? Let's see. I'm losing what little enthusiasm I had for FB, primarily because I've discovered just how tiresome some of my friends are. I'm surprised at how vehement a lot of them are about FB changes. It is just an app, a free (so far) one at that. If you don't like it, don't use it. How difficult is that?

Gurgle

I have a co-worker who has school-aged kids. The kids bring home all sorts of exotic germs, which my co-worker then brings to work to share with me. So today I am home fighting a cold. Symptoms so far: congested lungs, earache, headache, sore throat, fatigue. I thought about gutting it out and going to work anyway - showered and dressed and everything - since all I do is sit in a chair all day, but just the thought of climbing the stairs to my cubicle wore me out. Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

The more I learn about the project I am newly supporting, the less it appears I will have to do. It's a slick app with a finite set of requirements, a clean interface, plenty of functionality. My job is to support the released versions, but there are three more releases due out this year, so any problems that crop up will probably be fixed in one of the subsequent releases. And then, after the final release, support will segue to another department. So, what is it I am supposed to be doing here? I don't know, but everyone seems happy that I am on board to do it. Corporate IT - gotta love it.

Regarding the previously blogged about coat search, I did return to Kohl's to look over the men's coats, but I had the same problem there that I have with women's clothes: by the time they are on sale, my size is so picked over as to be non-existent. Is everyone in this city the same size as me, even the men? Hard to believe, but it's true.

In other random information, I think my dog's dreams and my dreams are starting to intersect. The other night I dreamed that she kept peeing in the house, and when we got up in the morning, the dog wanted out before eating. Unheard of.

Reading: Finished Anne Tyler's latest, Noah's Compass. Working on Trauma Farm. Maybe if I get energetic about it, reviews may be forthcoming. Or not. The short version is, thumbs up on both.

Movies: Watched "The Band's Visit". Thumbs up here, too. Now I have "The Thin Man". Yes, that movie. One of my fb friends has been watching them, which reminded me of how much I enjoyed them. So why not? Beats Mel Gibson.

Take your golf ball to work

My right heel still hurts, off and on, from the plantar fasciitis. My SO's daughter suggested rolling a golf ball around with my foot, so that is what I do at work when it is bothering me. At home, I use one of the dog's toy balls, a nubby thing that won't slide on the carpet. Hopefully, it will continue to improve because the latest health news says, it doesn't matter how healthy you eat or how much you exercise if you sit on your butt all day long. So now I am making a point of getting out of my chair at least once an hour at work. We'll pretend that is not affecting my productivity.

Speaking of work, this week I heard the final nail in my career coffin driven home. The short version is, I no longer do software development, since that has all been outsourced. Now I am doing product support, which is more like business analysis. Instead of writing code, I get to study the requirements and research defects and validate modifications, all those things I HATE. The only worse thing would be code reviews. Right now I am at the "study the requirements" stage, which is really difficult for me because I keep dozing off. I don't know how BAs do it. The software developers are in Riga. Maybe I will have to go visit.

What else is new? I broke down and bought some jeans. The only ones I had that I could still fit into were growing a crotch hole, and it was just a matter of time before they became indecent.

An aside: There is something about entering a clothing store that just makes me lose heart. I don't know if it is the plethora of unflattering choices or the fact I have the fashion sense of a doorknob or what, but it is all I can do to not run out of there in tears.

Anyway, I bought these jeans at Kohl's. They are Lee's. They are incredibly LONG. After washing, they are better but still too long. Maybe "boot cut" now means you are supposed to wear them with stiletto heels. They have some Spandex in them but don't feel like they have Spandex, if you know what I mean. Very comfy. But long.

While I was there, I also looked for simple, inexpensive tops to wear with my pj bottoms. I have looked for these multiple times in multiple stores. They don't exist, at least in the women's department, unless you want something that looks too stupid to wear even to bed. At Target, I had purchased some long sleeved T's in the men's department, but despite being 100% cotton, they were unwearable. They must have left the bolls in the cotton when they created the cloth. I gave them to the Goodwill; was that wrong? Anyway, at Kohl's I picked up a couple of waffle shirts from Men's Underwear. They are soft and warm and comfy!

I am in need of a new winter coat, too. I tried Dick's, where I discovered those nice insulated coats with a brand name I can't remember (North Country? North Face? North Something. Or maybe I am thinking of Columbia) are EXPENSIVE! So I looked for women's coats at Kohl's. I looked and I looked and I looked. They had a gazillion men's coats, but I could not find the women's. I finally asked someone - the coats were behind the bathing suits. There were not very many to choose from, they each weighed about ten pounds, and they were so puffy I could not get my arms in the sleeves. FAIL. But my SO purchased his coat at Kohl's last year, for a song, so I plan to return and check out the men's coats. And pick up more of those waffle shirts.

In other attempts to spend money, I have been trying to upgrade my DSL to FIOS (FIber OpticS). The Verizon website is a nightmare to navigate, but I also find all the deals they offer to be confusing. Brand new customers get the best deals, of course, but I doubt it would pay to discontinue my existing service long enough to become a new customer. I used to get an offer from them almost everyday in the mail. The offers trailed off during xmas, but they are starting to arrive again. I'm trying not to get obsessed with getting the best deal, but I would really like a free Netbook when I sign up. My SO bought one and it is so CUTE!

What else is new? Not much. Same-o same-o. Plan to spend the day making a butt dent on the couch while I watch football and knit. Sounds like a plan. Go Colts!

Brrrrrrrrr!

I'm having a difficult time summoning any enthusiasm for cross country skiing this morning. The snow is lovely, just perfect in fact, but it is NINE FREAKIN' DEGREES OUT! Never mind that skiing always warms me up, just the idea of being out in it is daunting. It's cold enough INside the house, let alone OUTside.

The only "resolutions" I came up with this year were to practice yoga every other day, and walk on the days in between. My goal was (notice past tense - heh) to do one or the other every day and not substitute other activities for either. I haven't done too badly, but again, this cold weather is difficult to overcome. And now I have plantar fasciitis.

The good news is I found out that my weight problem may not be from eating too much, but from sleeping too little. Someone somewhere did a little study (and if I weren't so lazy, I would look up the facts here), asking a group of women to change nothing about their lifestyle except to get at least 7.5 hours of sleep a night. After six weeks, every one of those women lost weight, between 6 and 15 pounds, I think. I know I eat more when I am tired, so this makes perfect sense to me.

More good news (depending on how you look at it) is the discovery that the calorie counts on packaged foods and restaurant menus are frequently off, and are allowed to be off by up to 20%. (Again, too lazy to find the article, but it's online somewhere, so Google it, folks.) And the errors always seem to be calorie counts that are less than they are in reality. Why is this good news? It explains how I can count calories and still not lose weight. I'm drifting away from packaged foods and restaurant dining more and more these days, anyway, and now I have added reason to.

Hmm. It's 15 degrees now. I'm running out of excuses.

How I spent my xmas vacation

I can't believe I have to go to work tomorrow. I've been on vacation since Dec. 23, and that week I worked from home quite a bit, so it feels like I have been away from the office forever. As usual, I started my hiatus with a laundry list of Things To Do, and some were accomplished but most weren't because they were things I really didn't want to do, so why should I spend my vacation doing them? Today I will probably try to cram some of those chores in; even if I don't want to do them, they really need to be done.

Yesterday I got dressed for the first time in days. Wore a bra and everything. Not that I have been lounging around in pjs or (worse) cooking naked. Sweat or yoga pants, a sports bra mostly for nipple protection, and sneakers have been my uniform. Once dressed, I actually drove out of town on an errand to the middle of nowhere. I'm not a total hermit.

When I have an extended staycation like the past ten days, I try to pretend that I am retired, but the paradigm doesn't really shift. I can't make any long term commitments or completely abandon my sleeping schedule or let everything go to hell if I want. I do a lot of thinking, though, which sometimes is a good thing but sometimes not.

One thing I have been contemplating is what to do about this blog. Lately it has degenerated into movie reviews and whines about work. I have two readers who are not spambots. I maintain two other personal blogs, one about knitting and one about my home and garden, and I sorta maintain blogs for two non-profits, which should be enough but it's not. I can't decide what to do, though, so I guess I will do nothing. For now.

1000 Journals

“It's more important to do something personal than to do something important. That's what I think now.” — 1000 Journals

My SO and I watched this documentary last night. In a nutshell, a graphic designer who calls himself SomeGuy took one thousand blank books, added artwork to the covers, stamped the inside with instructions - keep for two weeks, add whatever you want, pass it on, send it back when it is full - and launched them into the world. His goal was to spark our innate creativity, that fresh way we looked at the world when we were young. "1000 Journals" contains interviews with some of the contributors and how the project impacted their lives. No one was "saved" but everyone gave something and gained something from participating. According to the website FAQ, only one has come back, but in the movie, I think more like two dozen did. There was talk about a museum exhibit - not sure if that ever happened - and a book about the project was published and obviously this movie was made. Oh, and another project, 1001 Journals, came into being.

While I was intrigued by the idea and entertained by the movie, I'm not sure what to think about it all. I am one of those many adults who would not answer "YES" if asked whether I were an artist. In the not so distant past, I tried to keep a journal like these, something that contained more than my daily whine, but could not sustain any interest in it. But now that I am approaching the end of my 50's (GAH!), my interest in this sort of thing is increasing, not as an expression of creativity but as an exploration of my inner life, the real me, whoever that may be.

In the era of the Internet, keeping a journal of any sort on paper seems like an anachronism, but then how to explain the popularity of scrapbooking? In A Year of Cats and Dogs, the protagonist complains about how life has no plot. Maybe journals and scrapbooks and photo albums are our attempts to capture events and apply a storyline of some sort to our existence.

Julie and Julia

Back in my teen years, my mother grew a bit bored with the roast beef and meatloaf meals she had been cooking for decades. We were less than gracious about what we called her "gourmet cooking" but I don't recall refusing to eat what was served. I think she favored the Galloping Gourmet over Julia Child, but it was impossible to be alive in America back then and not to know who Julia Child was. Her style was as unique as William F. Buckley's.

Meryl Streep's Julia ranks right up there with Philip Seymour Hoffman's Capote and Kate Blanchett's Dylan and Hepburn. It would have been so easy to paint Julia's large personality with ridicule or farce, but that line was not crossed.

Briefly, the movie is about Julia Child's path to becoming a famous chef juxtaposed with Julie Powell's blog about cooking every recipe from Julia's first book in the course of a year. Quite frankly, I would have been happy with more of the former and less of the latter. While Julia is a cultural icon, Julie is a pop phenomenon, and a not very interesting one at that. I have to give her kudos, though, for being able to bone a duck.

Amy Adams played Julie. She is one those actresses who morph enough with each role that I don't pick up on the fact that I have seen her in other movies, including important films like "June Bug" and "Doubt". Ditto Stanley Tucci as Paul. I raked over his filmography, trying to figure out just where I've seen him before. It appears I've seen him all over the place, but not in any roles that stick in my mind.

This movie could have been the story of a great romance. I wish someone loved me the way Paul loved Julia. And I wish I loved someone like Julia loved Paul. Maybe I need to cultivate a big personality, a grating falsetto, and a love of French cooking.

Religulous

A few weeks ago, my neighbor called, wanting to foist some Mad Ants basketball tickets onto me. I told him I had other plans, but I did not elaborate, because those plans involved a butt dent in the couch and watching Bill Maher make fun of religion in "Religulous". Some people would not think that was funny.

But I did. Religion, and the people who practice it, are easy targets for ridicule. I just don't understand how an individual can reject scientific evidence that supports the concept of evolution and yet believe in talking snakes, virgin birth, and raising people from the dead, without suffering enough cognitive dissonance to make his/her head explode.

I confess that I lack the capacity (or the imagination?) to make the leap of faith that religion requires. And I have tried, I truly have. I can get excited about becoming a believer for about 15 minutes, but then it all just fades away. Consequently, while I found "Religulous" to be entertaining, it didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. The movie was obviously edited for comedic effect as well, so any insight it might appear to provide should be taken with a grain of salt.

Not a movie review

Not that I don't have a movie to watch from Netflix. I have a bad habit of not watching my Netflix movies in a timely fashion, a habit I was trying to break - hence, the sequence of movie reviews - but now I am back to my old wastrel tricks.

So what have I been up to? Well, I went on a business trip last week. I complain a lot about my job and I don't always agree with how I am managed, but there are very few really bad things I can say about my employer, especially when they own what amounts to a time share in private jets. And that is how found myself in this...



... eating this...



... with a view like this.



The problem is our fair city is very expensive and difficult to fly in and out of, and the company's solution is NetJets. This was my first time on board, and it puts commercial flight to shame. There is no security to pass through, none of this get-to-the-airport-hours-ahead-of-time. In fact, I was late due to an accident on the highway and THEY WAITED FOR ME. And the steward brought us coffee and breakfast when we took off and hot towels when we arrived(!!!)

The time at HQ was not very interesting. We were seated in the "basement" with the contractors, and this was our view:



Believe it or not, there is a deer in that picture. My travelling companion and I were so excited, you'd think we had never seen wildlife before. And, for me, that was the highlight of the trip. That, and getting to watch "Monday Night Football" and back-to-back-to-back reruns of "Law and Order: SVU".

The low point was getting sick from the salad bar in the cafeteria - the shrimp cooties in the mango and shrimp salad must have jumped across to the asparagus (I'm allergic to shellfish). The upside was I missed the company party, bowling followed by a meal in a shrimp-infested hibachi restaurant. By the time I felt better, it was time to go home.

Gran Torino

I like Clint Eastwood. I like most Clint Eastwood movies. "Gran Torino" is no exception.

Basically, the story involves recently widowed Walt who lives in a changing neighborhood. Walt likes to growl and complain. Estranged from his own family, he unwillingly gets involved with the Hmong family next door. There is gang violence involved, and Walt decides he has to do something about it.

Like most Clint Eastwood movies, it is best not to examine this one too closely, or you will notice that there is only one multi-dimensional character and that the rest of the cast is there to move the plot along. And don't think too much about how good-natured the Hmong are about being called a wide variety of racial epithets. And don't get caught up in wondering if your own death will have meaning.

Instead, laugh out loud when Walt decides to "man up" his teenage neighbor Thao by teaching him how men talk to each other (it involves a lot of profanity and ethnic slurs) and cry a little about the need for some to drag down the others and nod approvingly at the surprisingly satisfying ending.

Mystic River

Many years ago, I watched "Mystic Pizza" so I assumed "Mystic River" took place in a southern Connecticut port town. But no, it's Boston based. A second level of confusion resulted in the fact that one character is named "Sean" but not the character played by Sean Penn, who is "Jimmy". Just as I can't keep track of who has the ball when the Vikings play Green Bay, I had trouble keeping the names straight, except for "Dave". And I did not realize this was a Clint Eastwood-directed film until the end, when the credits rolled.

This was one long, slow-paced, dark movie. I don't think there was a moment of levity in the whole thing. And a certain amount of knowledge had to be inferred from the dialog. Fortunately, my daughter was on hand to keep me up to speed.

The basic story line is, three eleven-year-old boys are deeply affected by what happens to one of them, Dave. Flash forward 25 years, and we see that one is a cop and one is a petty thief turned local boss of his own little fiefdom, while damaged Dave acts kind of dumb but is smarter than we think. Jimmy's nineteen-year-old daughter is brutally murdered, and Sean the cop works the case. He and his partner focus on one likely candidate after another, but by the time they nab the perpetrator, one of their suspects becomes fish food.

This movie reminds me of "Unforgiven" - another Clint Eastwood movie - which I "got" but could not explain. Things are not tied up in a neat little bundle in the end. If you can stand that kind of uncertainty, this may be a movie for you.

To Joy

I'm a fan of Ingmar Bergman, but I found "To Joy" a bit difficult to watch. The acting seemed overwrought, even for 1950, and the story a bit disjointed. Fortunately, it was a short film.

But there were some solid themes running through it:
* What happens when we find out we are not as special as we thought?
* How do we parse out freedom and responsibility?
* Where does love go when it takes a holiday? And how do we lure it back?

I watch (read) a lot of foreign films and wonder about the nuances of the translations. And I'm not very familiar with most of the classical music that punctuated this movie. I think I would have appreciated the movie more were I better educated.

Bored and boring, but it's a grand life

Falling back on memes for blog material is a telling marker that my life (and me) are rather boring. Join me in my boredom!

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
If it weren't for my job, my neighbors, and other people, I would be perfectly happy. Actually, my neighbors aren't too bad, except for the one with the five (FIVE) barking dogs.

What is your greatest fear?
Being old and sick and diagnosed with dementia when all I really need is a stiff drink and a cigarette.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Gee, so many to choose from. I'll say, the eating thing. When stressed, my eating is out of control. Although last night, when I was feeling particularly weepy about city services (or the lack thereof) and discovered the makings for s'mores in the cupboard, I limited myself to two. I don't like marshmallows that much, and they are so sweet they killed my taste for more chocolate. Now, if I had had some milk in the fridge, the graham crackers would be history.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Again, so many to choose from. There are the usual - intolerance, ignorance, selfishness - but most days what I really hate is how other people drive.

On what occasion do you lie?
In general, I don't lie, except to myself, e.g. "I didn't eat THAT much today."

What is your greatest extravagance?
Define extravagance. Others might judge my yarn stash an extravagance, or the fact that I buy organic food, but even in those areas, I have my limits.

What is your current state of mind?
Boredom. (Editor's note: I wrote this at work.) I'm almost always bored. Me and Flaubert.

What is the quality you most like in a man?
I like a guy who says what he thinks. Also, is willing to make the phone calls to solidify the plans.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?
I like a gal who says what she thinks. Also, is willing to make the phone calls to solidify the plans.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
"Asshole" and "shit". But usually they are so appropriate! Especially when on the road!

When and where were you happiest?
In college. Freedom without responsibility! And while nursing my babies.

Who are your favorite writers?
This changes all the time. Lorrie Moore and Michael Connelly come to mind, although I am reading Marilyn French right now.

Which talent would you most like to have?
Metaphors. I cannot come up with a halfway decent metaphor to save my life.

If you could change one thing about your family, what would it be?
My family, as in my kids, or family, as in my siblings? My kids are perfect, and my siblings are okay. I do wish my mother had lived longer, though.

If you died and came back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
A cat or an otter. Or a tree. Or a wiser version of me. I like to think we learn something in this life that will help us in the next, assuming there is a next. Otherwise, what is the point?

What do you dislike most about your appearance?
The extra 30-40 pounds I tote around. Since it is mostly around my waist, it really gets in my way.

Where would you like to live?
I like where I live, but we could use a bit more snow in the winter. The summers have been kind of dry lately, too. And then there are those barking dogs.

What is your most treasured possession?
Well, my kids are most treasured, but they are not possessions, and any pet owner will tell you that it's the pets that own US. If the house caught on fire and the pets were safe, the only things I would grab would be my laptop and my purse, because each contains huge portions of my life.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
The loss of a child, even though that goes beyond misery.

What do you most value in your friends?
I like a friend who says what s/he thinks. Also, is willing to make the phone calls to solidify the plans. (Ask me something different!)

What are your favorite names?
First American names, because they say something about the namee. Mine would probably be Grumpy Bear or Dances with Beagles.

What is it that you most dislike?
Besides the usual - intolerance, ignorance, selfishness - the way people drive.

What is your greatest regret?
Not following my dreams when I was young. I can still follow those dreams, but it is so much more difficult with a mortgage.

How would you like to die?
First, I plan to live forever - don't we all? But if I must die, let it be in my sleep. But only if the house is clean.

What is your motto?
Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. Moderation in all things. It's a grand life, if you don't weaken.

Vitus

This Swiss film is the sweet and funny story of a boy genius who wants to be normal. Vitus is a prodigy who truly loves music, but doesn't like how people, especially his parents, treat him because of his gift. Grandpa is the exception, as are a few others who realize he is fine just the way he is.

It is telling that, after viewing one too many Hollywood movies, I kept waiting for something bad to happen - a tragedy, a molestation, a prank gone horribly wrong. But instead, the story progresses along a natural timeline. Along side the plot are questions of parentage - dad is a workaholic, mom becomes overly invested in Vitus's success - and questions about just what is "normal".

The storyline gets a bit fantastic toward the happily-ever-after conclusion, but the ending fits the story. A pleasant, intelligent movie appropriate for most ages.

P.S. All my blogs are getting spam from "anonymous" commenters. So I am going to disallow anonymous comments, to see if that eliminates this pesky problem. Not that anyone will notice.

Cleanliness is next to clean-limbed (in my dictionary)

Many years (actually, decades) ago, a group of us from college developed the habit of gathering twice a year, sans children and other significant others. We started with a stolen Saturday afternoon (some of us were nursing babies), which later grew to an entire day, an overnight, and eventually a whole weekend. It gave us an opportunity to smoke, drink, eat chocolate, watch R-rated movies, play cards, and discuss whatever subjects were pressing at the time. Thirty (30?!?) years later, we smoke less and drink less and eat less, but we still gather and gab.

This past weekend, the group met up at my house, which meant I did not have to drive anywhere but I had to clean everything. I'm one of those people who cannot see the dirt in my own home except through the eyes of others, family members excluded. After executing a rapid "spring cleaning" in anticipation of this weekend, all I can say is, Oh. My. God. It was gross. It was inexcusable. It was embarrassing. My house was filth personified.

But now it is clean! And I would like to keep it that way. Occasionally, I consider hiring someone to clean, rationalizing it would take only one or two hours a week to keep things under control. Then I think, surely, SURELY, I could spend one or two hours a week doing just that. But for some reason, I don't.

Not that I don't create a cleaning schedule for myself. Living alone, if I did an abbreviated spring cleaning in one area each week, my house would always be presentable. Week 1: bedrooms. Week 2: bathrooms. Week 3: livingroom, diningroom, West Wing. Week 4: family room and kitchen. This would be beyond the weekly laundry and vacuuming and toilet swishing. This would be the mopping and the decobwebbing and the dust bunny roundup. Not everything would need to be done every time, but each area would receive a bit of individual attention, to keep things from going to hell and to forestall a cleaning marathon such as the one that occurred last week.

What usually happens, though, is when it comes time to execute the plan for week 1, I think, Well, it's still clean from the last cleaning and I'd rather do such-and-such and I'll do it next time. And that is usually the end of that.

Actually, if I could just keep the breakfast bar clear, I would be happy.

Auntie Climactic

I'm not a holiday person, and in the past, I have complained bitterly about the extortion of Halloween. But I really do get a kick out of the kids. Well, most of them. What's up with the "Happy Halloween!" greetings? What happened to "Trick or treat!"?

Ordinarily, this plastic bag adorned with a jack o' lantern face and stuffed with packing peanuts is all the further I will go re decorations. But for some reason, this year I went wild and plopped down $4 for the above window treatments. So I was stoked, in my own pathetic little way.

\

So where were the tricky treaters? I started with a 90-count bag of "fun-sized" Starburst and Skittles (chosen because I don't like either). At the end of the evening, I still had 72 left. (Despite my distaste for them, I ate three). Were the kids sick? Were their parents afraid of germy candy? Because it was a Saturday night, were there parties in place of canvassing the neighborhood? I don't know. At least the ones who did show up were wearing the best costumes ever.

And I have the best daughter ever, as evidenced by these birthday flowers:



(No, my birthday is not on Halloween. I'm just late in posting this pic.)

Doubt

Last week I watched "Doubt", starring Meryl Streep and Philip Seymour Hoffman.

And what a well-written, finely-directed, superbly-acted movie that was! The story of a priest of questionable character, an old crotchety nun and a young naive nun could easily have slipped into stereotype and predictability. But the priest is not so easily categorized (nor is his supposed victim), the old nun is tough but covertly caring, and the young nun turns out to be stronger than we expect, plus she reflects our own confusion about the truth.

The dialog, where delicate topics are disguised in oblique vocabulary that those of us who experienced the '50s and early '60s will recognize, contributes to our own doubts about what exactly is going on. The best scene is the conversation between the old nun and the child's mother. Deliciously complex!

Highly recommended.

Big slice of crazy pie

This week was one of those crazy-making weeks at work. One application I support quit working for one user, but not the others. Another application I've been modifying starting generating never-before-seen errors. But later in the week, both situations resolved themselves without any apparent effort on my part. Software development used to be fun, but now it is so complex that it has become inexplicable.

My little bug turned out to be a mini-cold. It has hung around all week, making me tired and snotty but not providing enough symptoms for me to call in sick.

Otherwise, not much going on. At least, nothing I can report here. Don't you just hate it when something particularly blogworthy occurs, but you feel constrained from blabbing about it on the 'net? Maybe this particular misadventure can be reported in the future, after time recasts it as an amusing anecdote.

Sleepless in October

It's not that I have been having trouble falling asleep the past few days. Instead, my dreams wake me up, mostly as a result of a new home improvement project. My philosophy is that the likelihood of bad things happening is in an inverse relationship to the amount of worrying I do. In other words, the more I worry, the less likely things will go wrong. The work is supposed to be done by the end of the month, though, so it shouldn't be too bad, right?

Meanwhile, the fall-spring bug I seem partial to has returned. It strikes about once a month, during the fall until it gets wintry cold, then again in the spring until it warms up. It feels like I am coming down with a cold or the flu, but after a couple of days, it goes away. Exercising my immune system, I guess.

I have given up on the new position at work. A co-worker of mine who also applied for one of the two openings was invited to a second interview (and I was NOT). They finally offered him the job, but at a lower salary. That is giving him pause. I would be willing to earn a little less if I could have more vacation, but I don't think I will have the opportunity to bargain.

More troublemaking, plus updates

My usual MO at work these past few years has been to keep a low profile. If they did not know who I was, what I did, or how to find me, they could not sever me. Now I have enough pension years and am old enough that technically I could retire tomorrow. There are some financial goals I'd like to meet first, like paying off my mortgage. However, I feel more willing to take risks these days.

My latest campaign is to whine about our development tools. I have no idea how the corp decides on what tools to use. I do know that the ones my team uses are archaic by technical standards. I also know that other IT teams within the corp use more modern tools. With a new, smallish project coming up, it seems like a perfect time to introduce a better development environment. And I am not afraid to say so. We'll see if it gets me anywhere.

I also asked the HR guy about the position I interviewed for (more boldness there). He says they still have not decided; check back next week. My interpretation is this means I am not on the A-list, but hiring me for the job is not out of the question, either.

As for my yoga class problems, I abandoned the Tuesday night "Yoga I" class in favor of Wednesday night "Core Yoga", which meant moving date night to Thursday night and rescheduling appointments with my hair stylist. See? I can be flexible not only in body but in psyche as well.

And my insomnia has taken a leave of absence! (Knock on wood.) One of the studies discussed in Insomniac involved the relationship between protein consumption and melatonin levels. My diet tends to drift toward vegetarianism, so in the spirit of experimentation, this past week or so I made a conscious effort to eat more animal protein other than the usual eggs and cheese. And I am sleeping much better. My question is, Is it the meat or is it something in the meat, like hormones? The book decries the dearth of studies linking insomnia with hormones, but most women will tell you that such a link exists. I guess I could further my personal experiment by switching to organically raised meat, but I have a difficult time forking over that kind of cash.

So. Is everyone getting an H1N1 flu shot? I have not had the flu for about 12 years (more knocking on wood). In that time, some years I have had flu shots, but not in the past eight or so. I am not inclined to get one this year, either. I am not in a high risk group, plus they may or may not protect me, plus I am reluctant to be a guinea pig for these rushed-to-market medical "solutions". But that's just me. What about you?

Casual business

Every year we have Breast Cancer Awareness week at work (although it boggles my mind that anyone can be UNaware these days). In recent years, this fund raising event has been dubbed "Denim Day" because we get to wear denim if we donate $5 to the cause. (Fortunately, the money does not go toward breast cancer awareness but to your choice of a research fund or a mobile mammogram unit; more about that later.)

This year the subject line of the memo announcing the event was "Denim Days start Sep. 29" and the memo ended with "Contributors are encouraged to celebrate Denim Days and Breast Cancer Awareness Month by wearing jeans, along with something pink, on Monday, October 5."

Well, I misinterpreted the subject line and the last sentence of the memo to mean, starting Sep. 29, we were to wear denim, and on Oct. 5, also wear something pink. Guess who the only person in the building wearing jeans today was? Well, not the only person. I saw one other who must have the same reading comprehension abilities as I have.

Re the mobile mammogram unit, I took advantage of its presence in our parking lot a year (or two?) ago. That will probably be my last mammogram. The technician managed to twist my right breast before applying tectonic pressure with the plates, and it was excruciating. It made me cry. My breast ached for a week. It seems counter-intuitive that treating breasts like this is a good thing. Plus I read (in a book the name of which I cannot remember) that, anecdotally, mammograms save lives, but statistically, NOT. For now, I will take my chances.

Almost two weeks and still no news on the position I interviewed for. I'm guessing that I am not their first choice, but if they can't find anyone better, they might give me a chance. Or they are negotiating with my boss for my release. Or they have made a decision but no one has bothered to tell me what it is. Or (fill in the blank)....

The Secret Life of Words

A quiet film, "The Secret Life of Words" starts by introducing Hanna. Deaf, she works in a factory and lives in isolation, exhibiting some OC behavior. Her boss forces her to take a holiday, which she dutifully does by traveling to Ireland. There, she overhears a phone conversation and, revealing that she is a nurse, offers to tend an injured man on an oil rig.

Hanna has suffered a monstrous tragedy in her past, which is slowly revealed. Likewise, the fire on the oil rig that killed one man and injured another, carries its own tragedy, which is also slowly revealed. The sick bay, an island within the island of the oil rig, provides a safe place for both Hanna and her charge to reveal their injured selves, both physical and emotional.

The oil rig is populated by a small crew of "quirky alones". The men are drawn to Hanna despite her initial aloofness, and her interaction with them allows her to emerge from her self-imposed shell.

The movie is sad, but there is an undercurrent of joy (partially provided by the sound track) that illustrates how the human spirit can carry forward despite unspeakable horrors.

The movie is driven by dialog, hence played well on my small TV. Highly recommended.

That was quick

Shortly after our current governor took office, the BMV system became horribly broken. Not only did the online system roll belly up, we stopped receiving renewal notices; the state said it was our responsibility to magically know what we owed and to pay up or else. At the same time, wait times at the BMV offices ballooned, and the state's response was to remove the wall clocks (because, hey, we are too stoopid to carry watches or cell phones). Also, no food or drink allowed PLUS no using the restrooms, no matter how many hours it took. Equipment broke down regularly and computer data was garbled. The only bit of sunshine throughout this ordeal was the employees, who remained mysteriously upbeat despite the glitches and flaring tempers.

For several years, I gave up trying to renew my plates online because the plates would not arrive until after the old ones expired, and the police said it did not matter if you had a receipt proving you had purchased your new plates WEEKS ago, an expired plate was an expired plate. I never heard of anyone actually being cited for expired plates, but it still made me nervous.

A couple of years ago, things started to improve. The state lured people back to using the online system by offering $5 off the fees. Even though wait times had improved at my local office, I risked renewing online. And it worked!

This year I needed to renew my driver's license, which has to be done in person. There are new rules coming down the pike regarding proof of identity, but they don't go into effect until the first of the year. While double checking this info online, I noticed I could schedule an appointment at my local BMV to renew my license. Huh. So I did. But you know what? I did not need it. Either I picked the best time on the best day of the month to renew or else the BMV finally got their shit together. I was in and out of there in less than twenty minutes; the longest part of the wait was the developing of my pink (?!?) license. Even the photo looks halfway decent. And since I don't have to renew my license for six years, maybe they will have the additional identification requirements ironed out by then.

While waiting for my license, I overheard part of a conversation between two local small businessmen. In general, my state is RED but it turned BLUE in the last presidential election, probably from lack of oxygen. And these two gentlemen sounded red to me. But while they were wary of the new health care proposals, one of them stated loud and clear that he thought he would never vote for a Republican again. So while President Obama's approval ratings may be slipping, I'm guessing there is not going to be a corresponding rise in the popularity of the GOP. Yet.

Whatever happened to the four-day work week?

I almost took a "mental health" day today (not that such things are sanctioned where I work) because I suffered through two lousy nights sleep in a row, but since I was neither shaky nor weepy, decided to tough it out. And I'm glad I did because I made an attitude adjustment that enabled me to label myself a troublemaker instead of a victim. And I mean "troublemaker" in a good way, because in the end, the users of the app I support were well served. No awards were given, but I felt good.

Somebody else did give me an award, though: flurrious.



Not only do my readers (all two of them) of my FIVE blogs (this one, one for knitting, one for home and garden, one for the neighborhood association, and one for a non-profit) rarely comment, I have a hard time getting co-workers to respond to my emails. But even that improved today. Must be some kind of harmonic convergence.

Meltdown

Friday was one of those terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days.

The interview Thursday started out well, but I fell down during the second half when a lot of specific and technical questions were asked about Oracle. I've never had any formal training, so I don't know the actual terminology or definitions of all things SQL, but I have always been able to figure out what needed to be done or found the information in books or online or from co-workers. I tried to stress that in the interview, but I'm not sure how it went over.

So I was already feeling a bit battered when someone did not just press my buttons on Friday but leaned on them, heavily. I won't bore you with the details, but my head exploded. I don't think I showed how upset I was, but when everyone left for lunch, I found myself pacing my 9'x9' cubicle and just had to get outside. Fortunately, it was a beautiful day. I walked around the construction site and the pond until the feeling returned to my extremities and I could breathe again. When I returned to my desk, I was calm enough to deal with the situation.

Friday night, though, the whole upset came flooding back when I tried to go to sleep. I spent half the night chewing on my work situation, plus the yoga class thing, plus several other problems in my life. And I did come up with some strategies, so the insomnia was not a total waste of time. Sometimes we are awake at 2AM for a reason.

On a separate note, I performed a little blog cleanup in the sidebar today. Despite my IT background, sometimes I am a little slow to adopt new technology. I just recently switched from IE to Chrome for my browser, and consequently to Google Reader for my blog feeds. Blogger has a "Blog List" gadget that can be populated directly from Google Reader. Easy peasy!

To sleep, perchance to sleep

A couple of months ago, I went shopping for a new mattress. Since I have a waterbed frame, I needed a waterbed insert, i.e. an odd-sized mattress, no foundation, that will fit in the frame. This limits my selection, so I did not expect to have to make much of a decision between models except for price and comfort. But at one store I was told I could get a Tempurpedic. I laid down on one and just about drifted off to sleep right then and there. So what if it is a petroleum product?

I did not make a decision right away because 1) Tempurpedics are more expensive, 2) Tempurpedics are really heavy and awkward, and 3) I was not convinced I would like it in the long run. So I did what I usually do when I can't make up my mind about something: I waited. I also talked to myself, saying things like, "You spend at least one-third of your life in bed, shouldn't you be comfortable, price be damned?"

Then I also did a little online research and found a significant number of complaints about Tempurpedics, complaints like the 20-year-warranty is about 15 years too long because the mattresses wear out early on and the manufacturer won't honor the warranty, etc. I know some people with Tempurpedics, and while they love theirs, none of them have owned them for more than four years. So I decided to get a conventional mattress, which will probably need to be replaced in 10 years. At that time, I will revisit the Tempurpedic question.

The new mattress was delivered last Saturday morning. Good-bye, saggy pillow top, hello Therapedic New Castle! Already my back feels better. I also can sleep on my left side without feeling like my lungs are being compressed, something I have not done for quite some time now; I blamed my scoliosis but I guess it was just the mattress.

But one thing bothers me: When I signed the receipt, the delivery guy made a point of telling me to put it in a safe place, like under the mattress, so I would know where it was. Ever slow on the uptake, it was about 24 hours later that I wondered WHY I would be needing that receipt. Is my new mattress going to wear out prematurely? I hope not, because now that the new mattress smell has dissipated, I am liking it. A lot.

I tried researching the Therapedic online, but other than complaints about their memory foam model, could not find much. So maybe everything will be okay. Hope I don't lose sleep over that.

The conference room accepted my invitation

My interview is tomorrow. It's a telephone interview. Since I work in a cube, in order to achieve more than a pretense of privacy, the interview will take place in a conference room (on a speaker phone - real private). Reserving the conference room involves "inviting" the conference room to a meeting, a meeting that is occurring at the exact same time as my interview. Fortunately, the conference room is free even though I am not.

The parking lot outside the office is now a big pile of broken asphalt and a small mountain of gravel. We have to park on the other side of the building. The guys here are suffering from Bobcat envy. I can't wait for the trees to lose their leaves - they block the view of the construction site from the second floor. A new building! It's kind of exciting.

I skipped yoga last night. Or rather, I skipped yoga class. I practiced at home instead. There I could decide which poses to do and how long to hold them. I also did some extras that my lower back really needs but that have been missing from class. And an inversion! The Tuesday night instructor is relatively new, but I thought she would have a clue by now. She seems afraid we won't like her if she makes us work and acts apologetic for putting us through a sun salutation. I have actually lost strength from her class, but hers is the only one offered by the studio that suits my weeknight schedule. What to do, what to do. Maybe it's time for a change.

Sign of the times

We received notice at work that our pensions are being frozen. Actually, new hires have not had the option of participating in the pension plan for some time now. Instead, they get an extra company contribution to their 401k. Now we all will get that, plus those with frozen pensions will get an additional transitional amount. I actually like this method better, because the calculations for one's pension always seemed a bit, well, mysterious.

Re the new position I applied for at work: I had an interview scheduled for this afternoon, but "they" cancelled it at the last minute, due to a meeting conflict. I find this a bit odd, because we have software for scheduling meetings that detects such conflicts. A co-worker who is also applying for one of the open positions had his interview today, though, and from the kind of questions they asked him, I am less hopeful that I will get the job. Another co-worker questioned whether I really wanted the job, which further wobbled my leaky craft. At any rate, I don't have to worry about it again until next week, so I won't.

On a positive note, construction on the new building should start soon. Or at least, the parking lot will be carved up into construction and non-construction territories this weekend. Baby steps.

Gulp

Tired of listening to myself whine about my job, I finally did something about it: applied for an open position within the company. It's an IT position, but in a business department instead of IT proper. And it is right here, in this building, on the same floor even, with people I already know. The work, however, would be something new, at least, and maybe interesting. I don't think it could be worse than my current plight. The application process is online on our intranet, so I am hoping that I have better luck than I have had with other online processes lately. We shall see, come next week.

Why the sudden motivation? Maybe it has something to do with waking up each morning, chanting "F*ck, f*ck, f*ck, F*CK!" Maybe it has something to do with the insomnia, which already seems to have become resistant to the caffeine reduction program. Maybe it's the stomach churning in the middle of the night. I need to hang in for at least another 2.5 years, but I don't think I'll make it if my stomach hurts and I can't sleep and my language skills continue to deteriorate.

And maybe some of the motivation comes from the blogs I read. Jane changed jobs a while back, and is happier than ever. Laurie decided to move and just like that, it was done. Noelle has been floundering a bit lately, but is on a new course of self-discovery that I greatly admire. If they dare, so can I.

Gee, I feel better already.

Oh. Hello, there

I didn't announce it, but somehow I took a summer hiatus from this blog. I'm not alone in this phenomenon, so we'll skip the guilts and just carry on like nothing ever happened. Because nothing did.

When we last saw our heroine, she was battling insomnia, trying to lose weight, beginning her summer reading, watching movies, whining about work, and otherwise engaged in mindless shitshat chitchat.

On the insomnia front, I am achieving some success with the caffeine reduction plan. Since I always make it a point to stop drinking coffee by 2pm, I did not think the beverage of champions was contributing to my insomnia. But then one day it occurred to me that I have lost my tolerance of alcohol and developed a sensitivity to artificial sweeteners and started farting more and otherwise been experiencing a variety of complaints related to aging, maybe I should cut back on the joe, just to see what happens. And guess what? I am sleeping better. Not perfectly, but better. I still have a couple of cups of coffee in the morning and one after lunch, but that's it. The trick is not to get sucked back into overconsumption after a bad night. Like last night.

Re weight loss, while I had some success with the Flat Belly Diet, the weight loss appeared to be limited to about seven pounds. I kept that off, until vacation, when I gained a pound, and until my post-vacation funk, when I gained two more pounds. Now I am back into my work-home rut, so I can return to my dieting rut as well. (Note: on vacation, we attended a celebration of my dad's 90th birthday. I dressed in my most slimming black slacks and top. Between that and the yoga, I looked pretty good, if I do say so myself. All to impress my sisters-in-law. I'm pathetic.)

The summer reading has been fun, if sporadic. Michael Connelly's The Scarecrow is not one of his best, but still a page turner. Not Becoming my Mother by Ruth Reichl is short and sweet. At first, it seemed a bit depressing because Mom at 70 was still wondering who she was. Fortunately, she later became herself, so there is hope for all of us, if we just live long enough. Still working on Insomniac - it is not only long, but densely packed. Almost gave up on Hello, Goodbye by Emily Chenoweth but I'm glad I finished it. Ready to start The Art of Travel because I like Alain de Botton's ironic insights (and he doesn't beat you over the head with them) and lately I have had the urge to visit Paris.

I don't know why I continue my subscription to Netflix. Right now there is a DVD sitting on top of the TV and I don't even know what it is. I find it difficult to sit still to watch a video (but not to knit or read - go figure), so the last video I watched, "Craft in America", was perfect. It's actually a 3-part PBS special, so I could watch one part at a time. A one hour commitment is do-able. Previously, I watched "Revolutionary Road" (excruciatingly depressing) and "The Reader". I think I'll go back to foreign films.

What can I say about work? I don't like to blog about work, so let's just say I have always found corporate politics to be baffling, it amazes me that any company is profitable, and if HR showed up at my cubicle door with a pink slip, I would take my severance and RUN.

How was your summer?

Insomnia

That's my excuse for not updating this blog more often. Periodically, I suffer through bouts of insomnia, but this most recent one has been particularly relentless. Recently, I participated in an insomnia survey of sorts, a class project of my massage therapist, and she suggested I read Insomniac, by Gayle Greene.



I have never been able to discern a reason why my insomnia comes and goes, but I'm guessing it's a combination of anxiety, hormones, and stress.

Also, the rabbit died. That used to mean "I'm pregnant" but in this case, the rabbit literally died.



My pet bunny suddenly sickened and passed before I could get him to the vet. I've lost pets before but only after they have grown old and/or suffered through a long illness. HipHop was young and I expected to have him for several more years. I'm a little surprised at how much it affected me, too. I think the older we get, the more difficult loss becomes, which is unfortunate because losses large and small really start piling up as we age.

Another feature of aging is realizing we are not going to do all those things we thought we would do "someday". Like travel. And by travel, I mean really travel, and not just in herds of seniors.



From reading Where the Hell is Matt? I realize why I don't really travel: my physical comfort and safety matter more to me than visiting strange and exotic places. Is that the definition of old or what?

Speaking of old, I am also reading Somewhere Towards the End, by Diana Athill.



Liberated woman or slut? She likes to kiss and discreetly tell. She is less discreet in her opinions, and I favor candid people.

What else has been going on lately? Our all-employee summer event was postponed at the last minute because it was inadvertently scheduled the same week as a global downsizing. (My department downsized last year, so we were left relatively unscathed.) We were to go bowling. We went bowling several years ago for the all-employee event. At that time, we were gifted tee-shirts in the company color with the company logo on the front. Not bad, I thought, until I unfolded it the day of the event.



Fridays are jeans day and I frequently wear this shirt then, which makes the person responsible for its design happy. She does not realize I am wearing it ironically.

Speaking of work, we are getting a new building next year and the new building will have new work stations. This is my current cubicle. (Sorry about the crummy pics - had to use my cell phone camera.)



This is your standard cube, about 9' x 9', with a hutch, some shelves, some drawers, a visitor's chair, and a 5-drawer file cabinet. I also have a white board and a hook to hang my coat. The cloth walls are about 5' tall, giving one the pretense of privacy.

Here is the new work station. (If you look closely, you can see the hand of god giving it the spark of life.)



Floor space is about 5.5' x 5.5'. Walls are about 4' tall. Shelves and drawers are limited; no white boards and no coat hooks. If one rolls one's chair back from the desk a bit, one is in the aisle.

The desk can be cranked up so one may work standing up...



... just in case one wishes to remain above the fray.

"They" set up two of these 6-stall pods, one right next to my cube, so I get to hear all the complaints and carping. Once the novelty wears off, two employees are going to take up residence.

In fact, here is one of those employees now, with another co-worker who is making sure the monitor is level by using an app on his Google phone.



Is that geeky or what?

A meme about ME! ME!

I stole this from other blogs. Ordinarily, I don't do many memes because they usually require thinking, but this one isn't too challenging.

What is your current obsession?
Knitting. I knit even when I don't really feel like it. I used to obsessively read fiction, but knitting keeps me from picking at my cuticles.

What is your weirdest obsession?
Some would say the knitting, but it seems pretty normal to me.

What are you wearing today?
Still in my jammie pants and a tee shirt. And my lobster slippers.

What’s for dinner?
I'm planning to stir fry, to make up for the bag o' chips I ate last night for dinner.

What would you eat for your last meal?
I would probably be too distraught to eat, but if not, a whole rhubarb strawberry pie with real whip cream.

What’s the last thing you bought?
Yarn and groceries, in that order.

What are you listening to right now?
The refrigerator. Oops, it just stopped. Now all I hear is the passage of time. Tick. Tick. Tick.

What do you think of the person who tagged you?
Nobody tagged me. That would require that someone actually read this blog.

If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?
The house is not the issue. I would like to live in the country if I could find a rural area that was more blue than red. And flat but with trees. And no mosquitoes.

If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
South Dakota, to see where my mother grew up.

Which language do you want to learn?
I watched a French movie last night and marvelled over how everything, even "SHUT UP", sounds better in French. But Spanish would be more useful. Or if I learned German, I could transfer to the Zurich office. Not that I would.

What is your favorite colour?
Red. Red, red, red.

What is your favorite piece of clothing in your own wardrobe?
I hate my clothes. I hate clothes in general. I'm a jeans-and-tee-shirt kind of gal, but right now, my jeans are too tight to be something I reach for automatically.

What is your dream job?
World famous novelist.

What’s your favourite magazine?
The New Yorker. The writing is usually quite exquisite.

If you had £100 now, what would you spend it on?
I don't know how much that is, but I would probably just put it in the bank.

Describe your personal style?
Lazy day dreamer.

What are you going to do after this?
Laundry.

What are your favourite films?
Lately I have been quite taken with foreign films. I can't tell if they are really better than Hollywood or if they just seem better because of the languages. The acting is definitely better.

What’s your favourite fruit?
Raspberries.

What inspires you?
I am easily inspired, but not inspired to actually do anything. See lazy day dreamer.

Do you collect anything?
Coffee mugs.

Your favourite animal?
I like most animals but I will say cats because I cannot walk past one without engaging in conversation and offering a few scritches.

What are you currently reading?
The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work. Highly recommended.

Go to your book shelf, take down the first book with a red spine you see, turn to page 26 and type out the first line:
"Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said, 'What do you call work?'" That's from The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. I don't even know where this book came from or why it is on my book shelf.

By what criteria do you judge a person?
Are they fatter than me? That's always a plus.

What skill would you like to acquire immediately?
To be able to run long distances. And to smoke cigarettes without suffering the consequences.

Doppelganger

I think my evil twin lives nearby, and she has the medical community on red alert.

Several years ago, I went to a dermatologist. (You don't need to know why.) I had never seen this doctor before, but when she entered the examining room with her nurse/assistant, the two of them stayed by the door, about 10 feet away from me. I would have said, They acted like I had leprosy, but I assume that would have piqued their interest. Instead, they tried to keep as far away as possible until professional manners forced them into my force field. The whole episode discombobulated me - do I have BO? is my breath that bad? am I so hideous that a dermatologist finds me repulsive? - but perhaps they mistook me for someone else.

Then I noticed being treated oddly at my doctor's office. I don't go there often, so it's not like I am one of those patients begging for attention, and maybe they consider me a "problem" because I am non-compliant with the statins, but still. One time the nurse yelled at me over the phone in what was to me an obvious case of mistaken identity. At least, I realized she was mistaking me for someone else; I'm not sure she did. That nurse is gone (nervous breakdown?) and the new one is friendlier, but now I have to run the gauntlet to see the doctor at all. The last time I was there, I was seeking treatment for a sinus infection. This was the very day the media reported how antibiotics were futile against sinus infections, but my doctor had not heard the news yet. When I made the appointment, I had to list all the home remedies I had already tried. When I made it to the examining room, I again had to recite all my efforts to heal myself, this time to the nurse. And when the doctor came in, I had to repeat the whole performance AGAIN, after which he grudgingly admitted I had done the right thing by trying to treat myself at home with OTC meds and vitamins and herbs and voodoo before wasting his valuable time. Do they treat everyone this way? Is it just me? Or do they have me confused with someone else?

And then there is the pharmacist at Walgreens. After a root canal, which involved a double dose of Novocaine that actually made my brain zing, I stopped at the drug store for some pain relievers. When the cashier asked if I had any questions for the pharmacist, I said yes because I wanted to ask about drug interaction. Needless to say, with my numb mouth I sounded like I was mentally challenged, but the look on the pharmacist's face was uncalled for. To put it bluntly, she was horrified and repulsed and it took all her willpower not to run down the aisle screaming. Which made me laugh, confirming I was not only retarded but crazy and probably homeless as well. Or maybe she thought I was someone else.

Recently, an acquittance commented that she knows someone with the same name as mine. I wish I could remember who that was, and I wish I had grilled her for details, because I need to talk to that woman. Face to face.

Interesting but not compelling

I watched "Frost/Nixon" last night. Since it was based on a play, I figured that watching would not be as important as listening, so I knitted while it ran. That may have been a mistake because I have noticed that when I knit and "watch" a movie, I'm not really engaged in the movie. Occasionally I will pick up my knitting halfway through a movie, but that is because the movie is boring me, and I either must knit or quit watching. And I hate to leave a movie unfinished, just in case it gets better or the last ten minutes make it worthwhile.

Anyway, I have vivid memories of the 1972 election because it was the first election in which I was able to exercise my franchise. I was a hippie back in those days, and spent a sweaty day or two at the county fair, (wo)manning a booth for some liberal cause I cannot recall. I do remember the men associated with the Committee to Reelect the President, though, because they looked like mafia hit men in their dark suits. I mean, really. Who wears a suit to a county fair except goons who need to hide their gats?

Having lived through the era in question, I expected to feel a stronger sense of history from "Frost/Nixon" but did not. As much as I despised Tricky Dick back in the day, I have also harbored a secret sympathy for him, maybe because of a slight resemblance between him and my dad (specifically, the jowls). The movie did not feed my sympathy, either. Something about Langella's Nixon just did not do it for me. I think Nixon was meaner and darker and more wounded in real life. And David Frost is not all that interesting just by himself.

Would I recommend the movie? Only if there is nothing else you really want to see. If you have seen the previews, you have seen the best parts.

Do you hear what I don't hear?

My SO and I went to a concert last night: the Derek Trucks Band. I had never heard of them, but the SO was really excited. And I have to admit, I have never seen him enjoy a concert more. He was practically leaping out of his seat, and the whoops kept leaking out even after the music stopped.

I am the first to admit that, along with the fashion gene and the shopping gene, I am lacking the music gene. Last night was a case in point. I tried to make sense of the music, looked for layers, picked around for subtleties in the wall of sound they presented, but to me, Derek Trucks sounds like a one-layer lasagna or a casserole with too many strong flavored ingredients where every bite tastes the same. But judging by the outbursts from the crowd, I was alone in my opinion. They heard something that I did not.

Part of my problem is that I am simply musically ignorant. I don't know a chord progression from a shift in tempo, let alone anything about the roots of rhythm or the evolution of a musical genre. Last night's finale was a case in point. The central theme to the piece was the melody from "My Favorite Things". Surprised, I turned to my SO and said, "That's from 'The Sound of Music'." He does not like show tunes, so I was shocked when he responded, "Yeah!" Okaaaay. Maybe it was meant to be ironic? But each time the theme reappeared, the crowd went wild. WTF? After the concert, my SO explained that the piece was from an improvisational thing John Coltrane did live at Newport. Ohhhh. Did everyone in the audience know that? Most of them were old enough, so maybe. Or maybe they just liked what they heard.

And maybe I would go to another Derek Trucks Band concert given the chance, if only to try to hear whatever it is that I don't. I did hear the bass, though, and so did my sternum. Can one suffer from cardiac arrhythmia from too much vibration? And I liked the light show; I'd love to have a set of those swiveling lamps in my front yard at xmas time.

A local group, the Todd Harrold Band, fronted. Todd Harrold I have heard of, as he is a co-host of the Burnt Toast Show, and I knew he played locally but did not know just what. I would describe their music as drum-centric funk? The guitarist moves the way I imagine Bill Gates dances, which was amusing, and they also subscribe to the wall of sound school of music. My feet liked the beat. Would I buy a CD? Probably not, but if someone invited me to another of their concerts, I would go.

So, while I spent part of the evening wishing I was home piddling in the kitchen in my jammie pants and lobster slippers, I have to admit it was an interesting event. My SO accompanies me to folk music concerts and fiber arts festivals, and this weekend's date involves signing up for a cancer prevention study, so I think I can sacrifice the occasional night of listening to music that I don't hear.

And just so I am not the only one suffering from a brain itch: "Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens/Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens/Brown paper packages tied up with string...."

Tricks I play

There is a co-worker in my office whose phone rings incessantly when he is not at his desk. For some reason, the calls don't roll over to voice mail. A ringing phone, especially one that you can't answer, is maddening. I don't really know this co-worker well, so I don't feel free to accost him in the hallway and tell him just how annoying his caller is. But I don't care to expend much emotional energy on this issue, either, so I pretend he has a relative who is mentally ill and who needs to contact him 24/7, sort of like the Laura Linney character's brother in "Love Actually". Then my quiet seething is transformed into Poor guy.

Several years ago, another co-worker spent a lot of time in our department conducting user tests on some new software. This woman tends to laugh - a lot - frequently to the point where she sounds like she is choking. It was rapidly driving me crazy. Again, I did not know her well enough to tell her to Shut the f*ck up! So instead, I pretended like she was my best friend. Oh, that Mary! There she goes again!

One more example is a contract worker who I considered a bit of a pompous asshole, but with whom I had to work on a regular basis. In order to calm my general crankiness toward this individual, I pretended his wife had cancer. Not that I wanted to wish her ill, but simply to generate a little compassion on my part. Give the guy a break.

I consider it part of my job to get along with my co-workers. Most of them are simply doing the best they can, sad as that seems sometimes. But occasionally I need to trick myself into being civil if not downright friendly, in order to get my work done.

Hey, it works for me.

Dear diary

It has been a long time since we last "spoke". It's not that I don't want to write or that I don't have things to say. It's just that by the end of the day, a day spent on a computer at work, I'm not too interested in spending even more time in front of a PC. Maybe I should try for a weekly recap instead.

Let's see. Last weekend was Women's Weekend. A group of us have been getting together twice a year for over 30 years. It started as a response to our husbands' annual Memorial Day canoe trip. Our first "weekend" was just an afternoon, as many had nursing babies, but eventually we settled on a Friday-to-Sunday ritual, usually at a cabin on a nursery that the family of one of the women owns. We spend our time playing cards, watching movies, eating (but less and more healthily than in previous years), drinking (also less), smoking (cigarettes!), and talking, talking, talking. Over the years the topics have evolved, but we still have plenty to discuss. I enjoy the time spent with these friends, but I always come home exhausted and in need of detox.

Monday was Memorial Day, a paid holiday where I work. I had a massage scheduled in the morning, but got waylaid by a lost dog. I was eventually able to both reschedule the massage for noon, plus reunite dog and owner. Then, besides catching up on the usual weekend chores like laundry, I worked in the yard with the help of my SO who this year has been doing most of the "heavy lifting" - anything requiring more upper body strength than I can muster.

Tuesday it was back to work - ugh - and yoga in the evening. Wednesday, work and date night. We tried out a new place, the House of Greens - not bad, we'll be back - and went shopping for a new mattress for my bed. I have a queensize waterbed frame, but gave up the waterbed mattress about ten years ago. The current mattress has a definite valley in the center which is beginning to take its toll on my back. I was just going to replace it with something similar, but made the mistake of testing a memory foam mattress. More expensive but also more comfortable. Now I am torn. Wish I knew people who have these so I could quiz them, not only on the mattress's sleepability but also how they would grade it as a platform for sex. These things are important!

Thursday more work and new tires. I hate tire places in general - maybe it is the fumes - and they never want to make actual appointments and they don't have shuttles. I did get a lot of knitting done, though, and I am happy with the new tires. On the way home, I made the mistake of stopping at the Niagara store and wasted 'way too much time there because they are so desperate to make a sale that they did not want me to leave and I'm too polite to just walk out. By the time I got home, I was grumpy because most of the evening was shot, so I just put on jammie pants and sat down to finish Homicide My Own, by Anne Argula (if you like mysteries with strong female characters, this series is for you). My son called just to chat, which was nice and helped lift my spirits.

(One of the things we talked about was how most people live beyond their means because they cannot defer gratification, but not us. He said, I must have had good parents. And I said, I must have had good parents. And he said, And Dad turned out okay anyway. Heh.)

And then it was Friday. It has been raining for days around here and even though it looked threatening, I spent several hours out in the yard, working off the week's frustrations. Later in the evening, I started The Secret Life of Bees, by Sue Monk Kidd, but just could not keep my eyes open.

The weekend is finally here, with the usual chores but also the opportunities for R&R. Time for breakfast, yoga, and grocery shopping. Ta!

Take me out to the ball game

Last weekend we saw our newly named, newly mascotted, newly housed minor league baseball team make a rather feeble attempt at playing ball. Baseball games can be interminable, especially if the home team is playing like they are dazed and confused, but that did not stop the women in front of us from talking interminably to each other, even though they were complete strangers.



Fortunately, there were plenty of other distractions.



Unfortunately, my camera batteries died before the end of the first inning. We did have a good time, though. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday afternoon in the Fort.

After a wonderful, 5-day weekend, it was back to work, where I seem to have become persona non gratis with a certain group at our location. Things like this used to bother me, but now I find them amusing. While their emails to me are terse and simmering, my responses are lightly gushing, like I'm a dimwit who just does not understand that they hate my guts. I doubt the ice will ever melt, but at least I cannot be accused of fanning the flames. Unless they think I am being sarcastic. Heh.

We're all winners

Before I forget, let me mention the refrigerator magnets I won in a contest at Thinking Some More. They were made by fellow Hoosier Christy and besides being very cute, are also extremely strong.

I am taking a few days off from the nuthouse, aka that place where I go everyday and they give me funds for kibble. Last Wednesday was nuttier than usual. I would give you a blow-by-blow description of just how nutty it was, but I have already expunged the experience from my mind. As far as I am concerned, until next Tuesday, I am retired.

So what does one do when one pretends to be retired but can't spend the days just lazing around because said pretend retirement has an expiration date? Well, there's the outside stuff like mowing and gardening and driving all over the county in search of plants. Then there is the indoor stuff like cleaning and cooking and rearranging furniture. There is the SO stuff like date night and phone calls and colonoscopies. And there's the family stuff, like power walking (which happened to involve walking through a fiber arts festival - roving!) and a Tin Caps game and a combined Cinco de Mayo/Mother's Day/May birthdays celebration complete with birthday pie.

The days are just packed.

Misc.

The other day at work, someone came to call for Jeffrey D. Jeffrey D was not at the front door to greet his visitor, so the security guard was calling around to see if anyone knew his whereabouts. When the guard called me, he had a brain fart or something and instead of asking about Jeffrey D, he asked if I worked with Jeffrey Dahmer. Surprisingly, I knew who he really meant, maybe because there are not that many Jeffreys here at work. But after the call, I could not remember Jeffrey D's real last name; I just knew it was not Dahmer, familiar though that sounded.

In my previous post, we were discussing money - or at least, I was - but I neglected to vent about my role as association treasurer and the fact that half of my neighbors cannot cough up $30 a year for our association dues without much arm twisting. These dues cover mowing of common property, private snow plowing, property taxes on common property, and postage. The postage would be unnecessary if everyone would respond to the fliers, signs, and online postings about the dues. Complicating the matter is the fact our dues are voluntary and our compliance rate is about 80%. I downplay the former because I am afraid that more would not pay, but I made the mistake of posting about the latter. Now all I get is, Why should I pay if my neighbors don't? BECAUSE IT IS THE RIGHT THING TO DO AND IT IS ONLY THIRTY BUCKS!!! I'm sure many of these people spend $30 a month (or more!) on lottery tickets (aka the stupid tax). But a few bucks to keep the neighborhood looking nice and to allow us to drive to work after an 8-inch snowfall? Wah, wah, wah.

I have a new pair of glasses. A new pair of $843 glasses which, thanks to vision insurance, cost me "only" $329. They are very light weight. They are also screwing with my depth perception - the floor looks too far a way and sometimes that makes me feel dizzy. I had not realized how fuzzy my vision had become. Everything looks crisp now. I just wish the lenses were bigger; it's difficult to find the right place to look through when one has trifocals. Consequently, I keep bobbing my head.

On the way back to work from picking up my glasses, I turned right onto a road that I thought would take me right back to the office. About a half mile down said road, nothing looked familiar. Instead of strip malls, I was passing upscale residential additions. I swear I took this same route just last week. Where was I?!? Because of the additions - which in this town should be labeled with warning signs that say "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here" because they are super convoluted to discourage anyone from trying to take a shortcut through one, assuming there is more than one entrance - I could not take corrective action for several miles. And while looking for a way back without actually retracing my route, I kept trying to figure out where I went wrong. I also wondered if this was a sign of early dementia and/or a flashback. I eventually determined I had turned right too soon, and I eventually found a road that I knew would take me back to work, but whew! At least it was a nice day for a drive.

The pounds are not melting off despite the FBD, maybe because I am still struggling with the hunger thing. And at work, the boredom thing. And the sit-all-day-on-my-ass thing. My food choices were healthy before I embarked on this diet journey, but now they are even healthier, to the point where some not-so-healthy foods cause varying amounts of gastric distress. Like food from BK and the slow-churn low-fat ice cream from Baskin Robbins. At least, I think those are the culprits. Penn Station seems okay, though.

I'm up to 20 friends of Facebook! Most are blasts from the past, and it is fun to catch up with them. I also post pix of my yard and pets and knitting (geek!) So far, I have avoided joining groups or using the applications. It's addictive enough as it is.