August 7, 2003: God Said "Ha!" & I Knew It
August 8, 2003: Oy & More Cheese
August 11, 2003: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly
August 12, 2003: A Fortune Cookie Day
August 13, 2003: The Kobayashi Maru & HELP
August 14, 2003: Quiz & Yet Another Quiz
August 15, 2003: Thank You, Google
August 18, 2003: The Rude Awakening & Please Pardon The Exposed Geekdom
August 20, 2003: The Season is Upon Us
August 22, 2003: Miss Understood
August 25, 2003: The Return (Mostly)
August 26, 2003: Link Day
August 29, 2003: Low Attention Span Day -or- Writing in Circles
August 7, 2003: God Said "Ha!"
Despite rumors to the contrary, I haven�t dropped off the face of the earth. It might have felt better if I had.
Hadn�t noticed that I�d been gone a whole week? Oh.
Tuesday night (the Tuesday before last - the one in July) the left side of my face hurt. I knew from experience that it was a big, fat sinus infection. So out of morbid curiosity I did the normal thing; I grabbed a flashlight and looked at my throat. Strange, but it didn�t feel sore until I looked at it. Worst of all, the Dreaded White Spot of Strep was lingering around in the back. I didn�t feel all that bad so � in full denial mode � I didn�t think I had strep even though my legs were shaking.
I didn�t sleep Tuesday night despite the handful of Benadryl I�d choked down earlier to combat the invasion.
Wednesday morning after about three hours of sleep, I ran my 100 Things list through the Dialectizer in hope that it would make me feel better. I had an hour-long meeting with The Boss at 11AM. By noon, I had a fever. I made an appointment to see the doctor for the next day and went home.
At home, I tallied my symptoms: fever, White Spot, shaking legs. I had to face my Worst Fear: I very probably had strep.
Why the Big Deal over strep? Well, there�s a bit of a long explanation to it.
When I was 14 I had strep. I won�t go into the details as to why, but it went untreated. Unfortunately, strep is not your average cold. It�s caused by a big, bad germ called Streptococcus, as is Rheumatic Fever.
The streptococcus germ can be destroyed by antibodies if given sufficient help with antibiotics. Normally, after the antibodies whup up on all of the streptococcus germs, they die and are absorbed into the body. Some people have a protein in their DNA that causes their antibodies to react a little strange to the streptococcus germ. After destroying the streptococcus germs, the antibodies will wander around the body looking for more. The problem is that there are two places in the body where the normal cells look like strep germs to the antibodies.
In people with this weird protein in their DNA, the antibodies can mistakenly destroy the healthy, normal cell groups. One place the antibodies mistake for strep germs is in the valves of the heart. When my grandmother had Rheumatic Fever as a toddler, her antibodies destroyed the cells in the valves of her heart causing Rheumatic Heart disease.
The other place in the body that looks like strep germs to the psycho antibodies is in the basal ganglia of the brain. When I was 14, the antibodies damaged the cells in the basal ganglia of my brain, causing Sydenham�s Chorea. Most people with SC also have the heart damage (called Sydenham�s Chorea with the Jones Criteria). I�m very lucky in that my heart was not damaged.
This is why strep scares me so much. Every time I catch strep, my chances of heart damage increase exponentially. There�s also the big chance that my basal ganglia could be damaged further. I have an EKG scheduled for Friday to see if my heart is still working normally.
Most people haven�t heard of SC. It actually has something of a fun history. In the middle ages, when it was called Saint Vitas Dance (yes, I know � a Black Sabbath song) people who had it were burned as witches. Some historians think that some of the women who were killed in the Salem witch trials had it. When I was a teenager in full Goth-girl mode, I thought it was pretty cool: If I�d lived a couple hundred years earlier, I would have been considered a witch. Of course, now I realize that I would have burned for it, so it�s lost a little bit of its charm. Since the ability to get it is genetic, all of this killing of women who had it is one of the reasons we don�t wee very many cases of it today.
Also, if strep is treated in time with strong antibiotics, the chances of developing SC are very slim. These days, people have access to almost-instant medicine. This is another reason why there aren�t that many cases of it.
Besides the potential damage to my heart, SC doesn�t really affect me. Sometimes my right hand clenches into a fist. Sometimes my legs shake. It looks like I�m hyper. It�s not a big deal. Most people don�t even notice when it�s happening. I have some degree of control over it, too. As long as I don�t become stressed, sleepy, or sick I won�t have an episode.
Having a cold can be an interesting experience. My diet consisted of Jello, oatmeal, Gatorade, water, grits and Flavor-Ices. And this didn�t seem strange to anyone I talked to on the phone while I was sick. For an example, a conversation with my mother last Friday:
Mom: How are you? What are you eating?
Jan: Feeling ugly. I had a Flavor-Ice at 2AM and oatmeal and Gatorade at lunch. Right now I�m eating a Popsicle and I�m making Jello. Hold on. My Popsicle is dripping.
Mom: Good. You�re getting plenty of fluids.
Contrast that with a similar phone call when I was in college:
Mom: How�s school? What are you eating?
Jan: Physics is ugly. I�m OK. Can you send more laundry detergent? I�m kinda out. Oh. Chocolate, too.
Mom: OK. What are you eating?
Jan: I had a taco and Flavor-Ice at 2AM and a Popsicle just before my differential equations class. Um. Jello for lunch.
Mom: Did the Jello have carrots?
Jan: Gross. No.
Mom: You�re gonna die if you don�t eat right.
Of course, she�s just as bad today when she calls:
Mom: How�s the house? What are you eating?
Jan: Just mowed the lawn and raked the grass. I�m thinking about making the guest room-
Mom: What are you eating?
Jan: Well, I forgot breakfast and-
Mom: You shouldn�t forget breakfast.
Jan: It was more like I didn�t have time for-
Mom: Still.
Jan: I know. I�ll try to eat breakfast tomorrow.
Mom: And lunch?
Jan: I worked through lunch but I-
Mom: You need lunch. Why aren�t you eating lunch?
Jan: There�s this deadline at work and-
Mom: You still need lunch.
Jan: (Sighs.) I ate some Jello while I was working.
Mom: Did it have carrots?
Jan: Gross. No.
Mom: You�re gonna die if you don�t eat right.
No. I�m pretty sure I�m gonna die by the lethal injection administered by the State of Georgia after I�m convicted of killing my mother.
So far, this post has nothing to do with the title of it, God Said "Ha!" I don�t think He�s all that amused at my cold. Maybe I should explain.
When I left work early Wednesday I thought that I�d be able to write more for this website while I was sick. I planned a real blog-a-thon. I guess that show just how addicted to this blogging thing I am.
When I got home, I grabbed myself a Flavor-Ice and sat down to fire up the old computer. I was met with the Blue Screen of Death. Since this is not an uncommon occurrence, I wasn�t worried. I did what I always do when the Blue Screen of Death appears. After the clicking stopped, I tried again: Dun! The Blue Screen of Death (BSD) struck again!
I began to get worried. Usually, the BSD only happens once when I start my computer. Needless to say, I was never able to start my computer.
I was stuck at home with no computer. Sometime on the third or fourth day after being met with the BSD a couple hundred times, I thought: God is laughing at this. I finally get a chance to sit and write and I can�t because I have an old, decrepit computer.
I�ve learned that the old saying is true: The best way to make God laugh is to tell him your plans.
I never realized how necessary this beige box is. I get news from it. I get medical information from it. I can�t call anyone without the address book I save on it. I couldn�t call friends because their numbers were only stored on my computer. I can�t even tell you where my phone book is or if I have one because I use the Internet to look up phone numbers. I had to call my mother so that she could look up my pharmacy�s number for me on her computer. Sometime on Saturday I became industrious and decided that I wanted to make bread; I couldn�t do it because all of my recipes are in my computer. Monday, I couldn�t remember what the date was. There wasn�t a calendar in the house because I have one on my computer.
Having realized how integrated, how necessary, the computer is in my life, I have to have a new one. I hate to retire my old 486 with Windows 93, but I can�t get cut off from the rest of the world like that again.
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Comments
Nice to have you back. I hope the results of the EKG show that your heart is in good condition.
dan | Homepage | 08.08.03 - 6:40 am
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I Knew It
It's been confirmed by two different quizzes:
Classic Vern! More than all the other designers,
you take into consideration the family of whom
you are designing for. You design for them,
not yourself, using classic and functional
styles. You tend to brighten up the rooms with
fabric and color, but not to the extremes (like
using hot pink and flourescent lights). You
want your rooms to be unique, but still
livable.
What Trading Spaces Designer Are You (Results Contain Pictures)?
brought to you by Quizilla
Vern Yip
What Trading Spaces Personality are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Since I have a little crush on Vern, I am very, very happy to have two different quizzes show this result.
Link via Renee*.
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The next time The Boss wants me to go out on a site inspection on the first day back to work after being out a week with strep, please remind me to tell him to stuff it.
Not only did I have to go tromp around a culvert for an hour in the heat yesterday with strep-burnt lungs, I also had to do it in south Dekalb. Not only was the site inspection in south Dekalb, it was in a particularly bad section of south Dekalb known for violent gangs, prostitution, and drug trafficking. Not only was I in this bad section of south Dekalb, I was alone in this bad section of south Dekalb. Because I stopped in this section of south Dekalb, the Dekalb County Police has probably already run my license plates to see if I have a suspicious past.
How bad is south Dekalb? Remember the assassination of the sheriff-elect by the current sheriff he was replacing? It was all over the national news. That was in north Dekalb, the nice part of the county.
Before I left I told my boss that if it was too bad, I wasn�t going to get out of my car. I would just make a u-turn, return to work, and wait until he could send someone with me. Luckily, the culvert was in front of a church where a wedding was taking place. Otherwise, I would have been mightily out of place in my suit and pumps. Still was, if you want to know the truth. I wasn�t out of place because of the fact that I was wearing a black suit while everyone at the church was dressed more colorfully in reds, purples and fuscias. I wasn�t out of place because I was the only female in sight who wasn�t wearing a Sunday-go-to-meetin� hat and skyscraper heels. No, I was out of place because I was the only white girl in a fifteen-mile radius. Even worse, I was the white girl in a 2003 Toyota Matrix wearing a dark suit and sensible shoes. The stares were very disconcerting.
Now that I think back on it, they probably thought I was a Fed. Well, maybe they didn�t think I was a Fed; Feds drive white Fords. Right? At least, Mulder and Scully always drove a Taurus.
Anyway, the fun didn�t stop there. I returned to the office at 3:10 PM to find a message from my doctor waiting for me: "Have results of blood test. Call immediately @ (770) XXX-XXXX. Found an irregularity."
At 3:15 I called the doctor. He had already left for the day as had the nursing staff. Great. I�m a half-hypochondriac, they leave a message for me saying that there�s an "irregularity" in my blood test results, and I can�t get in touch with the doctor. My mind is very fertile; this can be a curse.
Logically, my mind is reminding me that every time a new doctor tests my blood, he�s always alarmed at my low iron counts. I know this. Still, in the back of my imagination, there�s always that little whispering voice warning of death and disease.
I already had an appointment for Friday, but that didn�t seem to matter. After all, they knew I had an appointment for Friday also. What could be so important that it couldn�t wait one day? As I said, my fertile imagination can be a curse.
But wait, there�s more!
Later that night my mother called. My grandmother had an appointment with the heart doctor that morning. The news wasn�t good: Nanny�s heart isn�t working on its own anymore. The pacemaker is the only thing that keeps it beating. A pacemaker isn�t built to continually stimulate the heart and the heart can�t stand that much stimulation without tiring. It�s race to see which finishes first, the heart or the pacemaker. Either way, there�s nothing anyone can do. She�s too frail for surgery even if surgery would help (which it won�t).
So, last night was not a night for sleeping. Last time I looked at the clock it was 3AM. Did I mention that I get up at 4:30AM? Well, I hit the snooze button twice and managed to get two hours of sleep. I walked in just before The Boss who was also late.
This weekend, I�m sleeping as much as humanly possible. If I wake up before noon on Saturday I�m going to take a Tylenol PM and head right back to bed and burrow beneath a couple dozen pillows. When I do get out of bed, it will be to work on the quilt I started last night for my grandmother. At 4' 11" and 90 pounds, she gets cold very easily.
You know, I�ve just realized how depressing all of my posts have been: they're all about death, disease, whine and cheese. I�m going to have to work on that.
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Comments
While I must say that your current situation is bad, I like your stories :). I can relate to you on the fertile mind though, and getting up early. This morning I was up shortly after 4. Other days it's 3, sometimes 5. It usually takes me 2-3 hours to get back to sleep which always happens to be about 10 minutes before I need to get up for work. But my mind keeps me company Cameron | 08.08.03 - 10:42 am
I think you should focus on the cheese. Cheese is yummy.
Levi |Homepage | 08.08.03 - 11:52 am Cameron, I guess that is a good side to the whole fertile imagination thing. I can relate to getting up before the alarm goes off and not being able to go back to sleep until just before it does. Levi, You know I'm a True Blogaholic: the bad stuff doesn't upset me as much as it should because I can write about it here. How sad is dat? ;) Note to self: More cheese. Jan Lynn | Homepage | 08.08.03 - 12:33 pm I too enjoy your stories, even though they're sad. I also enjoy a good piece of cheese. dan | Homepage | 08.08.03 - 1:12 pm |
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More Cheese!
It has been suggested that this site should have more cheese. Always willing to oblige, I took a Cheese Quiz at Quizzila. Hee. (Cheese Quiz. Geddit? Cheese Quiz. No? Cheese Wiz. Cheese Quiz... I thought it was funny. What?) Here's the results:
what cheese are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
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Comments As one from the America's Dairyland, Wisconsin, I heartily approve! Renee | Homepage | 08.08.03 - 9:40 pm What an odd little quiz. It says that I am Brie. I dunno about that. Speaking of Cheese Wiz (is it Cheese or Cheez?), I went camping over the weekend and we stopped at a convenience store to get some snacks. I picked up some Wheat Thins, because I love them, but I stopped short of the Easy Cheese stuff because a can of it cost $5! Is that ridiculous, or what? Levi | Homepage | 08.10.03 - 10:18 pm | $5 for cheese? And it's not even one of those fancy types of cheese either. It's not havarti. It's not even gorganzola. It's cheese in a can. I don't think I could bring myself to pay $5 for cheese in a can. Jan Lynn | Homepage | 08.11.03 - 7:32 am |
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Monday, August 11, 2003: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
Because I�d like to end on a high note for once, I�m starting with the Ugly and I�m moving backwards to Good.
Life isn�t fair. I only asked for one little thing. It was just one tiny favor, one itty bitty thing I�d prayed for. Heavenly Father knows that I�m serious about going back to church. For Heaven�s sake, I prayed with a sincere heart. Why, then, couldn�t He do this one little thing for me?
I didn�t think that it was too much to ask that He make today Friday. But no, it�s going to Monday all day long. Already, I can tell it�s going to be a long day.
Is there anything so dehumanizing as a doctor�s visit? I felt like cattle being poked and prodded and weighed and measured and evaluated: This heifer�s a mite unnerweight Bud, send �em back. Bring that there one over here; looks good. Send �em to the slaughter-house. Wal Mart�s havin� a sale on steak Tuesdie.
As I said Friday, a fertile imagination can be a curse. The irregularity in my blood tests weren�t as bad as my half-hypochondriac-mind imagined. I�m pre-diabetic, something I�d never heard of before. It means I have high insulin like a diabetic, but none of the diabetic glucose problems. It also means that I can avoid becoming diabetic and stop being pre-diabetic if I change my eating and exercise habits now.
My mother and two of her three biological sisters are diabetic. Having a family history in which diabetes gallops through and having attended diabetes workshops with my mother, I know quite a bit about diabetes. Still, I�ve never heard of pre-diabetes. I found out Friday that all diabetics were once pre-diabetic with high insulin and normal glucose. Until recently, doctors didn�t care if a person�s insulin was high as long as their glucose was normal. Now they know that this is a warning sign that a patient is headed towards diabetes fast.
I�m on a diabetic diet and I�ve been told to change the exercise to twenty minutes a day instead of the 45 minutes I�ve been doing three times a week. I�m also on a pill to increase my metabolism, since people with high insulin can�t loose weight without some kind of kick to their systems. It�s a strange thing: Pre-diabetics can�t loose weight because their insulin is high, but they can�t lower their insulin unless they loose weight. I guess this explains why every diet and exercise program I�ve been on has always failed. Diabetics don�t have this problem (mostly) because of their abnormal glucose levels.
I wouldn�t have found out any of this if I hadn�t caught strep. Knowing how I avoid doctors unless I�m in Mortal Fear of Death, I probably wouldn�t have known about the pre-diabetes at all until it was too late to do something about it. My mother didn�t know before she became diabetic and she goes to the doctor frequently because of arthritis problems.
I never imagined I would think this, but it�s a good thing that I caught strep.
All of my other test results were normal (except for a low good-cholesterol count that will increase with exercise). The EKG showed that I have, to quote my doctor, �the heart of an 18 year old marathon runner. I don�t know why. I certainly didn�t expect it.� Whenever I do force myself to visit a doctor, they�re always surprised at how healthy I am. They always expect the usual health problems associated with being overweight like high blood pressure, high cholesterol, poor cardiovascular performance, etc. They never believe me when I say that I can walk miles. Just don�t ask me to run them.
And don�t ask me to mow miles the weekend I�m recuperating from strep; I�ve learned my lesson. Saturday, I felt great. I still had a little cough, but nothing big. I slept till noon. It was wonderful. I haven�t been able to sleep like that since college. By three I was feeling really great so I decided to mow the lawn. Now, the lawn hadn�t been mowed in about three weeks because of rain and strep, but Saturday was a nice, overcast, dry day and I felt great, so I mowed the front yard. I was fine until I got to The Slope. The Slope is on the right side of my yard and is about a 2:1 slope (22.5 degrees) in most places and a 1:1 slope (45 degrees) for about a foot longitudinally. That�s pretty steep. I plan on putting in a retaining wall there, but I need to buy a treadmill first. Until I can afford a wall, I have to mow The Slope.
I somehow managed to slog my way through three weeks worth of Bermuda grass growth on The Slope. My hand-me-down mower only stopped three times. I was pretty happy until I started coughing. Soon it became clear that The Cough was back and it wasn�t going away.
Sometime Saturday night, after one particularly violent coughing fit, I pulled a muscle in my back. Saturday night and all of Sunday, I was flat on my back in bed with a heating pad.
So once again, no church this week. There will be no church next week either: My mother and I are going to Rome to visit my grandmother and I won�t get home until Sunday night. I think Heavenly Father understands the necessity of the trip.
Too bad He didn�t understand how much I needed today to be Friday.
Oh, I almost forgot the really good thing: maybe when I get this pre-diabetes thing under control (IE loose weight), people won�t tell me I look like Camryn Manheim.
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Comments
It is indeed unfortunate that Mondays always follow Sundays. I could really use a week that went straight from Sunday to Friday every now and again. Isn't it crazy how all the chemical processes in the body interact? That sort of thing fascinates me. Sometimes it seems like it's so complicated that we'll never understand it all, but we're gradually learning more and more. Anyway, I hope you'll be able to use your newfound knowledge to stave off diabetes. Levi | Homepage | 08.11.03 - 11:32 am | Hang in there with Church and everything else for that matter. I know it is tough going back and sticking to it. People may not be all that friendly and the meetings can be boring sometimes, but stick it out. It will be worth it and you won't regret it. Have fun in Rome. David Sundwall | Homepage | 08.12.03 - 12:29 am |
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Tuesday, August 12, 2003: A Fortune Cookie Day
Confucius says: Any day that begins by oversleeping the alarm by 2 hours and 45 minutes is not going to improve.
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Comments Ow. I hate it when that happens. Used to happen to me quite frequently, so I can say from experience that such days do sometimes improve. Levi | Homepage | 08.12.03 - 1:54 pm Any day that begins by sleeping is a GOOD DAY. nicole | 08.12.03 - 9:03 pm Are you going to blog more? gina | 08.12.03 - 9:03 pm | I hope to blog much more. I just didn't have time to do much Tuesday because I was 1.5 hours late for work. Jan | Homepage | 08.13.03 - 7:28 am |
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Wednesday, August 13, 2003: The Kobayashi Maru
I read somewhere that bloggers shouldn�t write anything they would be ashamed of if someone they knew should happen to stumble across their blog. I�ve tried to follow this advice. This blog is extremely personal, true, but I haven�t written anything of which I�m ashamed. I�ve been embarrassed plenty, but then I�m easily embarrassed; remembering a divorced coworker�s tale of the horrors of buying his preteen daughter a training bra leaves my cheeks pink even now. That tale wasn�t even remotely risqu�; I still have no idea why I�m embarrassed by it. Maybe it�s because it has to do with bras. I don�t know.
I just know that I am easily embarrassed. That�s why I�ve been hesitant to write about an incident at a family Christmas party two years ago.
Every year my father�s side of the family has a big Christmas party at my aunt�s house. I�ve always tried to go because a cousin � I�ll call her Fran � and I were close as children and the Christmas party is the only time of the year that I can expect to see her because of the long distance we live apart. At the party two years ago, Fran and I were talking about children. She has a son whom I was trying to cuddle at the time; he was five and had better things to do than hug some distant relative he didn�t remember.
When I let him escape to go roughhouse with the other boys, Fran remarked that I was good with kids and asked when I was thinking of having them so she wouldn�t have to share hers. I laughed and replied that I had to find the right man first and, as I wasn�t even dating anyone at the time, kids seemed pretty far off.
Fran suddenly became serious. She wanted to know why I never brought dates to the family Christmas party. I never have because bringing a man to a family get-together seems like a pretty serious thing and I�ve never been in a relationship serious enough to introduce him to my family. I reminded Fran about college and work and the lack of time I had. Then came the kicker: Fran said, "Well, you might want to bring some one or everyone will say the same thing about you that they say about Barney."
I was shocked. Fran has always said that Barney was gay because he never brings dates to the Christmas party. I�ve never agreed; it�s always been my opinion that Barney is picky because I am picky. Frankly, accusing someone of homosexuality is a serious thing. If Barney wasn�t admitting to it, then I wasn�t going to believe it of him. This is something Fran and I have always disagreed about � and Fran has always been very vocal about her opinion of Barney to the rest of the family.
The thought that she could believe the same about me � when I knew it wasn�t true � was shocking and hurtful and embarrassing. Knowing Fran, most of the family has been told her views on the matter; she doesn�t have an unspoken thought. But then, embarrassment turned to anger because she wasn�t finished: "At least bring a man with you next year and pretend you�re straight, for God�s sake."
I haven�t seen or talked to Fran since. I haven�t cared to see her. I don�t want to see her. I didn�t go to the Christmas party last year. As I�ve never been close to my father�s side of the family, I didn�t think this was a huge loss. In the past, I attended to be there for Dad (he feels out of place with them) and to see Fran.
I�m writing about this now even though it embarrasses me because my mother called last night for a Talk. The family Christmas party is coming up and she wanted to know why I wasn�t going. I didn�t go to last year�s party and I have no plans to go this December. She wanted to know why. I made some lame excuse about work and cleaning at home for the other family Christmas party that will be held there. She didn�t believe me.
So, I�m in a bit of a Catch 22: No matter what I do, no one is going to think any different of me. If I go alone, I�ve just confirmed their suspicions. If I go with a date, I�m pretending. If I go alone, in their minds I�ve just confirmed their suspicions. If I go with a date, in their minds I�m pretending. I�ve chosen not to go at all because I don�t like to loose and this is definitely a no-win scenario.
The problem is: What do I tell my mother when she asks again?
Updated because I�ve received too many emails asking if those two sentences above were my way of "coming out." No. It was just poor word choice on my part. I hope I've corrected any misconceptions anyone might have as a result. :)
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Comments I think Fran is way out of line, and I wouldn't be eager to associate with her after comments like that either. Maybe Barney just doesn't want to expose potential mates to such a gossipy, judgemental relative. :P I don't know your mother or your relationship with her, but if I didn't want to go to a family gathering of my own, I'd tell my mother that I didn't feel close to them, had personal issues with someone that would be there, and therefore felt no desire to go and had better things to do with my time. If, however, you would like to go and it's just Fran's comments that are bothering you, I suggest you go as you please and ignore what she thinks. I doubt her opinion is really shared by everyone else, she probably just has an overly inflated view of the importance people place on her words and the influence of her opinions. Really, you're in a no-lose situation. Nothing they think of you will change who you are, which is infinitely more important than their opinions. Do what you want to do, be yourself, and if anyone else has a problem with it... that's /their/ problem, not yours, and they're the ones that have to deal with it. :) Levi | Homepage | 08.13.03 - 2:52 pm Oh, I'm full of options: 1)If you have a good relationship with your mom, I say tell her what Fran said and that you don't feel comfortable being judged and watched like that. 2)Find the most manly girl you can and ask her to attend with you. Tell everyone she's your roommate and wink when you say it. Have the girl kick Fran's rear. 3) Call up Fran ahead of time, tell her you didn't appreciate her comments, that she made you feel bad enough to skip last year but you are not going to do that again. Go alone hold your head up high. 4)Call Fran and tell her you and Barney are dating. 5) Go alone, and announce during dinner that Fran clued you in on everyone's concern over your orientation. Proclaim that you are coming out of the closet at last - AS A STRAIGHT WOMAN. Then sit down and begin eating again. Okay, 1 is the probably the best option. But hey, the others are good for a laugh. Renee | Homepage | 08.13.03 - 4:21 pm Oh, and 3 is a good option, too! Renee | Homepage | 08.13.03 - 4:22 pm Thanks guys. Renee, I love all of your suggestions. #2 & 5 would make everyone choke. Hee. I don�t feel that Fran is important enough for me to bother with #3. And as for #4� Well, I am in Georgia. Do I hear �Ten Penny Nails� playing? Badum dum. A friend at work volunteered for #2. I thanked her and declined; She wanted us to wear matching dog collars. Though I appreciated the sentiment, that was a bit over the top for me. Levi, I think you are completely right about why Barney has never brought a date with him. I certainly can�t blame him. Mom and I are good friends, so last night when she asked why I wasn�t going I told her that I wasn�t very close to them. I also told her what Fran said. She was outraged. Of course, she�s never been accepted by Dad�s side of the family either, so I don�t think she was all that surprised by the pettiness and downright meanness going on. She still wants me to go, but she understands why I�m not going to. Honestly, I�m just sick of trying to gain their acceptance. This has convinced me that they�re not worth the trouble. Jan | Homepage | 08.14.03 - 7:19 am Maybe your mom will give them a mind of her mind at the gathering. Renee | Homepage | 08.14.03 - 2:42 pm Nah. She's very nonconfrontational. Jan | Homepage | 08.14.03 - 3:44 pm |
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HELP
OK. Forget about the family thing for a while and concentrate on this more immediate problem: How do you get "smudge proof" lipstick off?
A sample of one came packaged in a compact I bought recently. I tried it for the first time this morning. Just now, I looked in the mirror and decided that the color was really not all that good of a color for me.
When I tried to wipe it off with tissue, it wouldn�t come off. When I scrubbed at it with industrial strength paper towels, it didn�t budge. So, here I am stuck at work with an ungodly color on my face that won�t come off.
I realize that most of the people who comment are men, but please, any females out there who might know, help. How do you get this stuff off? The directions didn�t say and the company website doesn�t mention it.
I�ve emailed friends and family, much to their delight. I�ve emailed female co-workers. No one has had a solution that worked. Well, I didn�t try a solution one co-worker had: I am not putting fingernail polish remover on my lips.
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Comments Are you sure it wasn't fingernail polish? Try soap. Sam | 08.13.03 - 10:40 am | It was in a tube. Thanks, I tried the antibacterial hand soap that was in the bathroom. Didn't work. And Soft Soap tastes horrible. :P Jan | Homepage | 08.13.03 - 10:42 am Try eye makeup remover. Anything oil based should do it. I wear the Cover Girl stuff that lasts all day (and all night). I either just leave it on (since it isn't going anywhere HA!) or use my eye makeup remover. Renee | Homepage | 08.13.03 - 4:24 pm This was from Cover Girl. And man, it just would NOT come off. I got home around 5 and noticed that the stuff was dry, and since I couldn't find the gloss that came with it, I put chapstick on top of it. The next time I wiped my lips, a little came off. So I put more chapstick on and wiped it all off completely. I wish I'd thought of trying eye makeup remover. Next time(if I ever find a good color), I'll know. Thanks. Jan | Homepage | 08.14.03 - 7:24 am Carmex would probably work, too, (and be better for your lips, I suspect). Renee | Homepage | 08.14.03 - 2:44 pm Ouch. Carmex stings. Jan | Homepage | 08.14.03 - 3:45 pm I'm a man and I know the sure fire way of removing any lipstick. Simply grap whatever I'm drinking and take a drink from it. Your lipstick rubs off on my glass and then onto my lips. Leaving me looking like drag queen and you with lipstick free lips. jason | Homepage | 08.14.03 - 4:04 pm Come on, Jason. We know your kissing rep. Don't pretend there's a middleman, er middleglass. Renee | Homepage | 08.14.03 - 9:15 pm Oops. Actually, Cameron's got the rep, not Jason (that I know of)! Dang, why do I always confuse you guys? Renee | Homepage | 08.14.03 - 9:15 pm I'll keep that in mind next time Jason. Thanks. Jan | Homepage | 08.15.03 - 6:53 am |
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Thursday, August 14, 2003: Quiz
Oh my. I'm not sure what to think about this. I guess I can be glad that I wasn't Hitler or Napoleon.
You were Lincoln!
You came a long way from your humble
birth in a log cabin in the Kentucky frontier
in 1809. Your family moved to Illinois when
you were 21, and at age 22 you become a
surveyer, shopkeeper, and postmaster in
Springfield. In 1834 you got elected to the
Illinois state legislature, where you first
denouced slavery publicly. In 1836 you got
your law license. At the age of 33 you married
Mary Todd, and had four children.
Unfortunately, one died at age 4 and another at
age 12. After losing the election to Senate,
you became nominated as the new Republican
party's candidate for president. You won the
election, just as southern states began
seceding from the Union. You became the
president that saw the nation through its
bloodiest war to date. During your second term
in office, the same year that Robert E. Lee
surrenders and ends the Civil War, you were
shot in the Ford Theater by John Wilkes Booth.
Later that year, the Thirteenth Amemdment to
the Constitution abolished slavery.
Which Leader Were You in a Past Life?
brought to you by Quizilla
Yet Another Quz
Which Silver Screen Siren are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
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Comments You were Hitler! Oh, dear. Well, someone had to be.
You were born in Austria in 1889, and you were In 1919 you first met the nationalistic German Worker's Party, which later became the Nazi party. You became their chief propogandist and quicky rose politically. You became Chancellor in 1933 and within 4 months had installed a complete dictatorship. Your immense popularity with the masses helped ensure your power. That, and, of course, the SS. You were even Time Magazine's Man of the Year in 1938! You married Eva Braun during World War II and, as the Russians were closing in on your bunker in Berlin, you and Eva both committed suicide. Cameron | 08.14.03 - 10:13 am Well, that's scary. At least you weren't Napoleon. Jan | Homepage | 08.14.03 - 11:44 am If Fran finds out you married a woman when you were 33, watch out! Renee | Homepage | 08.14.03 - 2:54 pm But hey, I was the president! Fran will forgive a president of anything. Trust me, she totally loved Clinton and didn't care about the whole Monica thing... Jan | Homepage | 08.14.03 - 3:47 pm | I had a hard time deciding on the quiz answers. I always do. I did it twice, and got both Hitler and Lincoln. Levi | Homepage | 08.14.03 - 5:01 pm |
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Friday, August 15, 2003: Thank You, Google
I checked out my site statistics for the first time this morning. Maybe I shouldn�t have. It seems that 92.74% of the people who used a search engine to find this page found it by searching for the word �liahona.� That doesn�t bother me. What bothers me is the fact that the other 7.26% used the phrase "social moron."
I also discovered that 16.54% of my visitors use Linux 2.4.20-gentoo-r5 i686, 2.51% use Linux 2.4.21-rc7 i686, 9.35% use Macintosh PPC, and 71.60% use Windows NT 5.0. I guess I can�t tell Mac jokes without making a significant number of my visitors mad, huh? Too bad, I have a really good Mac joke.
In keeping with today�s Geek Theme: I took a Geek Test*. 50.60892% = Super Geek. This is probably related to the whole "social moron" thing. I think being an engineer did it. I also blame high school marching band.
And here's the result from yet another geek test*. *sigh*
You are 61% geek 
You are a geek. Good for you! Considering the endless complexity of the universe, as well as whatever discipline you happen to be most interested in, you'll never be bored as long as you have a good book store, a net connection, and thousands of dollars worth of expensive equipment. Assuming you're a technical geek, you'll be able to afford it, too. If you're not a technical geek, you're geek enough to mate with a technical geek and thereby get the needed dough. Dating tip: Don't date a geek of the same persuasion as you. You'll constantly try to out-geek the other.
I�ve had a few emails about the title of Wednesday�s post "The Kobayashi Maru." No one knew what that meant. Well, it�s just my geekdom showing. It�s from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Kahn. The Kobayashi Maru was a test with no viable solution given to cadets. It�s the "no-win scenario." Sorry. I�ll try to keep the geek/nerd references out in the future.
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Comments I got the Star Trek reference! I say leave the geeky stuff in. Be proud of your geekiness, for it is part of who you are. And you're in good company here, eh? ;) By the way, some of those Macintosh visits are from me, as I use one (along with some Linux machines) at home. I love my Mac, but I can take a joke, so lay it on me! Levi | Homepage | 08.15.03 - 1:30 pm OK. If you're sure you want the Mac joke... How can you tell if a Mac user has been trying to use a PC? From the chalk on the monitor! (sound of crickets) Hee. Well, I thought it was funny. Jan | 08.15.03 - 3:41 pm Hmm. Sorry, I'm with the crickets on this one. ;) Levi | Homepage | 08.15.03 - 4:34 pm Oh, and I scored lower than I suspected I would on the geek tests. 32% (Total Geek) on the first, and 43% (Geek Liaison) on the second. Levi | 08.15.03 - 4:53 pm I am # 3 on Yahoo's search results for "Renee". What's up with that? What about Renee Zellweger? Renee | Homepage | 08.15.03 - 5:43 pm I'm 46% geek. Renee 08.16.03 - 4:08 pm Levi, I thought that because you are a Mac user you would have scored much higher. Are you sure you didn't cheat? Renee, that's cool. Just think of the people looking for, um, pictures of Renee Z. and get your site instead! I'm not even listed at Yahoo.
But now, an appeal to the masses: Please. Please. There has gotta be someone out there who scored higher on the geek tests. Don't be ashamed. Embrace your geekhood and tell us everything! I don't wanna have the highest score. You know, I think that high school marching and is responsible for my high score. That, and the fact that I know how to use a slide rule. Jan | 08.17.03 - 10:55 am Jan, Macs rule, didn't you know? Good name there. How could no one know the 'Kobayashi Maru' test? KEEP the geek/nerd references,please! Chris Muir | Homepage | 08.17.03 - 8:27 pm |
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Monday, August 18, 2003: The Rude Awakening
This morning I was awakened at 2AM by a shrill ring.
"H�lo?"
"Jan, hi. I was calling to see how you are doing."
I scrubbed a hand over my face, desperately trying to think. "Hi. Fine, thanks. You?"
"You don�t know who this is. Do you Jan?"
"Um, no. Sorry." Clearly, I was not at my best at 2AM.
"Jan, this is your biological clock."
"My biological clock?" Clearly, I was prone to hallucination at 2AM.
"Yeah, Jan. Look, I just wanted to check in with you and see how you were doing."
I was confused. "I thought you were a clock. Is this your alarm going off?"
"No, no, no." I was relieved until she continued, "Not yet. Soon, but not yet."
I was silent.
"Just wanted to call and see how you are doing. I know you�re feeling down with your birthday coming up next month. You�ll be 28. Two years after that, you�ll be thirty."
I still said nothing.
"So, wasn�t Tiffi cute Saturday?"
My biological clock is as subtle as I am; which is to say, my biological clock is not subtle at all. Tiffi is Tiffany, my cousin�s stepsister�s second child. She�s two and as cute as she can be. All blonde fluff and smiley pink cheeks, Tiffi loves to be held and I was her target at my grandmother�s nursing home Saturday.
"You�re not getting any younger, you know."
I finally broke my silence. "Have you been talking to my mother?" I smelled collusion.
"No, no, no. But it�s true. You�ll be thirty in two years, one and a half months. Don�t you want children?"
I was cautious. "Yeah. Of course."
"If you have one today, you�d be 46 before it left home for college."
"I can�t have one today, I�ve got a meeting at nine." I thought it was funny.
My biological clock sighed. Apparently, even the part of me that I talk to doesn�t think my jokes are funny.
"Look, I want kids. My first rule of baby-making is that there�s gotta be a husband involved first. I�m not even dating so it�s gonna be a while."
"I�m not suggesting that you make a withdrawal from some fertility bank. I�m just saying, try harder. You�re gonna be thirty in two years, one and a half months."
"You have been talking to my mother."
My biological clock sighed again. "I just wanted to warn you. I�m gonna hit you hard soon. You think holding Tiffi was bad Saturday? Wait until you see pictures of your friends' kids next month at your high school reunion. It�s been ten years, you know."
"I�m not going. I�m in touch with most of the people I care to be in touch with. Why should I go?"
"You don�t want to go and see if Chris is married?"
I had a crush on Chris through most of junior high. He never noticed. "I don�t care. I want to marry in the temple. He�s not a member of the church."
"You�re getting kind of old to be so picky."
I sat up in bed. "I am not that old."
"You�re old enough for me to call you. You�re old enough that I�m gonna hit you like a ton of bricks soon. That�s pretty old. Wasn�t Tiffi cute?"
"She�s a doll." I could feel myself smiling despite myself. Tiffi was an angel.
"You have another cousin pregnant right now. And Tiffi�s mom just had another. This Christmas there�s gonna be two new babies at your mom�s house."
I smiled, thinking of the quilts I could make for the new babies. My biological clock knew what I was thinking.
"Don�t start another quilt. You have ten or more unfinished ones in your craft room as it is. Go finish one of those. Better yet, finish one of those for your own baby."
"I�m not even dating!" That much was certain.
"Well, why aren�t you?"
I had no answer.
"Look, let�s say you married today."
"I have a meeting at-"
"Let�s say you married today and next year at this time, you had a baby. You�d be 47 before it left for college."
"47 isn�t that old." I was feeling defensive.
"47 is when the first baby leaves, but you want more than one. Don�t you?"
"Yeah. Being an only child is bad." I knew that from experience.
"Exactly, let�s say you have five kids."
"FIVE? Can I find a husband before you start talking about five kids? I�m not even dating." All of this was, in my view, extremely premature.
"Let�s just take five as an example. If you have one child starting next year every 1.5 years, you�ll be 37 before you have the last one."
"It�s too early for math." I was still half asleep.
"You�ll be almost 40 and pregnant. That�s not easy."
"Women have babies at 40 every day."
"But not easily."
"Maybe not." Now I was just being stubborn. I knew it wasn�t easy; I had read about that somewhere.
"And there are risks for the babies who are born to older mothers."
"I know. I read that somewhere." Might as well admit it. "But women do it all the time."
"Not as often as the media would have you believe. Having a baby at 40 is difficult. Also, think. You�ll be almost 60 before the youngest is heading off to college."
"Sixty." I looked at the clock, 2:30AM. I had to go back to sleep; I had a meeting at nine.
"Yeah. And that�s if you were to have a baby within a year. The longer you wait, the older you�re gonna be when you have that fifth child."
"Look, you�re planning five kids and I�m not even dating."
"I know. That�s the point. You�re old. You�ve spent so much of your time on your career, you haven�t had time to think of kids."
"Hey, women can Have It All these-"
"No they can�t. You know that."
I mumbled. "I know."
"There are compromises. A person can do many things at once, but it�s hard to do all of them well if your attention and your time are split a million ways. You made the decision long ago not to subject your kids to day care. You want to be a full-time, stay at home wife and mother."
"It�s the best thing for kids." I was certain of that too.
"Yep. You made a decision between family and career. You chose family and you�re doing nothing to get one. So why are you wasting time on the career?"
"It pays the bills."
"So would a husband."
I was shocked speechless. I had no idea that was inside me; Even though it was now 3AM, I was lucid enough to realize that I was talking to myself.
My biological clock continued, "If you�re going to stay home, whom did you expect to pay the bills?"
I could feel my face burn. I hadn�t thought of that at all. I still couldn�t form a word.
"Look, I�m not trying to scare you. Much. I just want you to think about it."
I could hardly think of anything else now.
"You�re not getting any younger, you know. You�re gonna be thirty in two years, one and a half months. You don�t want to get married at thirty do you?"
I could finally speak. "You have been talking to my mother."
"No. I�m just saying that after the kids are gone to college you�re gonna want time with your husband, aren�t you?"
"I�m not even dating." I was just pouring salt on the wound at this point.
"But you plan on loving the guy, right?"
"Of course." I certainly wasn�t marrying anyone I didn�t love.
"Then the two of you are gonna want to do stuff together after the kids are gone. Maybe travel. Maybe go on a mission. Maybe just retire and laze. You wanna be 60 when the two of you get time alone?"
I hadn�t thought of that either.
"That�s where you�re headed. And think of grandchildren. Don�t you want to be young when you have grandchildren? You�re gonna be 60 before you have grandchildren."
Yet one more thing of which I hadn�t thought.
"I�m just saying that you need to pay more attention to men. You�re going to be thirty in two years, one and a half months. Why wait? And isn�t Tiffi cute?"
Tiffi is adorable.
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Comments
Jan, Cameron | 08.18.03 - 10:50 am | Oh, I can relate to the cold water treatment. I wrote all of this at 3:45 this morning while I was wide awake from being terrorized by my bio clock. I never knew before what a mean person my bio clock is. Jan | Homepage | 08.18.03 - 11:09 am Wow. You two have cool biological clocks that do stuff. Mine just ticks away, endlessly. dan | Homepage | 08.18.03 - 1:12 pm Dan, give it some time. The older you grow without children, the louder and louder the tick will get. Soon, it will wake you for no apparent reason. Then you'll start having conversations with it at 2AM. Every time you hold a baby you'll get teary-eyed and wistful. Then, just looking at one will make you list baby names. Just before you go insane, you'll coo at babies in TV commercials and think about how much more cute your own babies will be. I've heard that in the last stages, people actually volunteer to babysit their relatives' kids happily. There are rumors about people volunteering for nursery duty at church... If true, I shudder to think of the wretched state in which those poor souls must live. Oh yes, it starts with the tick. Jan | Homepage | 08.18.03 - 1:54 pm I think this may be a feature found mostly in the female version of the biological clock. The male version isn't particularly concerned until it gets a bit older, and then it mostly prompts us to buy expensive things in an effort to recapture youth or something. Or so I hear. Levi | Homepage | 08.19.03 - 2:16 pm Levi, you calling me a girl? You may have the long term bio clock in mind, but I know very well that I'm male, and that I have an active short term clock (one that likes to interfere on a daily basis). Cameron | 08.19.03 - 4:16 pm Cameron, is your clock telling you to raise some children? That's the feature I was talking about. My short-term clock, the one that should wake me up in the morning, is seriously broken, but that's just me. I expect most people have got one of those, whether it's functional or not. Levi | Homepage | 08.19.03 - 6:33 pm Jan: I'm 27 too and have held babies as recently as last week, but my clock continues to click without waking me up at 3am to have a chat. In fact, I've been sleeping quite well recently. dan | Homepage | 08.20.03 - 3:01 am Levi, please stop bragging about being able to sleep late; I�m jealous enough as it is. Dan, I envy your ability to hold a baby without yearning for one. Cameron, I think that we�ll all accept your word that you�re male. I guess the consensus is that - as they grow older - women want babies and men buy red convertibles and electronic equipment. Jan | Homepage | 08.20.03 - 7:17 am Well we all know Cameron Diaz, but she's a girl... dan | Homepage | 08.20.03 - 12:01 pm |
To the August Index
Please Pardon The Exposed Geekdom
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Yoda, I am. Judge me by my blog, do you? And well you should not - for my ally is the Geek. And a powerful ally it is. Life greets it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us, and binds us. Luminescent bloggers are we, not this crude matter! You must feel the Geek around you, everywhere. |
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Comments Woo, I'm Gandalf. A wandering spirit caring for a multitude of just concerns, you are an instrumental power in many of the causes around you. And so am I, very dangerous: more dangerous than anything you will ever meet, unless you are brought alive before the seat of the Dark Lord. Levi | Homepage | 08.19.03 - 11:28 am Cool. If I was anyone but Yoda, I would be jealous. Jan | Homepage | 08.19.03 - 12:59 pm |
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Wednesday, August 20, 2003: The Season is Upon Us
Last weekend my mother and I went to Hobby Lobby. Ah, the home decorative goodness that exists there is indescribable. Leather camels, iron elephants, bamboo frames, teak trunks and grass rugs, all co-existing happily beneath the roof of an old Wal-Mart building, Hobby Lobby is more than simple, ordinary home decor. Hobby Lobby is the Mecca of The Ultimate Home Accent. After salivating a solid hour over an awe-inspiring selection of beaded lamp shades, we made our way through the store to the back where the seasonal items are displayed expecting to find sales on summer goodies. I was hoping for a deal on patio furniture.
Instead, we found ourselves smack-dab in the middle of a display of Christmas ornaments.
Unwilling to confront The Season in the middle of August, my mother and I traversed the store looking for the summer sales and Halloween items. Finally, an uninterested clerk took pity on us and informed us that all of the summer items were gone last month and that the remaining Halloween items had been packed up and returned to the store�s suppliers the day before. Resigned to the inevitable, we wearily began our journey to the holiday department to confront The Season.
We trudged our way past the display of brilliant peacock feathers, waded through the ocean of Thai silk throws, and marched among the rows of patchouli scented candles determined to face The Season head-on, even though we weren�t nearly prepared for it. It was August, for crying out loud; neither my mother nor I had geared up for The Season. Shopping during The Season requires stamina, courage, stealth, and a certain amount of restraint if one wants to emerge from the experience financially healthy and mentally stable. But neither my mother nor I had prepared; we hadn�t expected to confront this for at least another month, maybe two.
Resolute and trembling with fear, we stood in front of the first of the Christmas displays.
We stared at the miniature pre-lighted trees in awe. In my mind�s eye, I could see two flanking my entry at home on either side of the door. I eagerly reached for one; Mom slapped my hand.
Absurdly hurt, I looked at her in question; how could she not see how perfect two would be in the entry? Heavens, they even have pinecones attached! She looked back at the miniature pre-lighted trees (with pinecones) then faced me square-on. "You want to buy a treadmill, remember? Plus, this is only The First Display."
She was right. I longingly stared at the miniature pre-lighted trees (with pinecones) and thought of the treadmill; the miniature pre-lighted trees (with pinecones) could wait. Having almost stumbled over the first hurdle, we mentally girded our loins and, with newfound resolve, walked further into the melee.
Immediately, we were attacked by a row of gold plastic icicles; Mom had searched for those all last year to no avail. Now, here they were, perfect and shiny and On Sale! They were Half Off! Mom grabbed four gold plastic icicle packs and wrestled them into the shopping cart. I knew better than to slap Mom�s hand; one has to be clever when dealing with one�s mother during The Season.
"Mom, did you and Dad get the gardenias planted?" She paid me no mind; she was busy slapping a few more of the gold plastic icicle packs into obedience. I had to try harder. I had to be less subtle; Mom was too far-gone to react to anything but candor. I could not fail. This was only the Second Battle; we couldn�t loose now. There are many more such battles yet to come before The Season is over. We couldn't loose the second one.
"Mom, are you going to buy gardenias?" I mentally slapped myself in the head; that was still too subtle. I tried again. "Mom, what about the gardenias? You want to buy gardenias."
A rational light began to enter my mother�s eyes. I picked up the gold plastic icicle packs from the cart cautiously; Mom tensely watched me the entire way. I placed them back on the shelf carefully, keeping my eyes on hers. "Mom, you want gardenias all over the back yard. Remember?"
I saw sanity return to her eyes as the full horror of her would-be actions descended upon her. We wisely decided to make a quick retreat before temptation struck again. We dashed through the forest of silk palm trees, dodging fake sugared apples deftly with the shopping cart as we made our way swiftly to the checkout.
When finally we reached the cashier, I threw the two fruit prints, two frames, and black candlestick I had chosen onto the counter with my credit card as I checked behind us to see if our escape was indeed at hand. Mom nervously tapped her foot against the floor as I completed my purchase. We almost made it. We would have, but the enemy knew our weakness too well.
On the way out, there was a display of Jamaican ceramic snowmen; my mother reached for one. "Your Aunt Kate would love this for Christmas."
Aunt Kate would indeed love it; she collected snowmen. How do I talk Mom out of this? It�s a present, for goodness� sake; talking someone out of buying for one�s self is child�s play compared to talking someone out of buying for someone else. The difficulty was doubled because she was buying a present; the difficulty was then tripled because it was a Christmas present.
Needless to say, we lost that battle; I am consoled by the fact that Aunt Kate will take great pleasure in the Jamaican ceramic snowman.
Speaking of Christmas and presents, I saw the most amazing thing on the net this morning. It was a door for cubicles*. Let us all take a moment and wonder at the beauty of such a thing.
And while we�re all a twitter over that, let me introduce you (via Mrs Du Toit*) to the greatness that is The Heartland*. "A stove?" You ask yourself. Ah, but not just any stove. The Heartland is a miracle of invention, a marvel of resourcefulness, a phenomenon of creativity, and a thing of beauty. Quite simply, The Heartland is The Stove. The red one*... Wow.
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Comments I HATE HATE HATE the way Christmas creeps out of its appointed time and infects ENTIRE MONTHS with stupid gimmicks and advertisements and its music. The extent of my loathing is beyond words. Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas. I love to celebrate it and hear the music and see the decorations for maybe a week or three, at most. I would really prefer for that week to be at the end of December rather than the middle of August, for goodness sake. Levi | Homepage | 08.20.03 - 3:35 pm O-o-o-h, I'd give my left eye for the blue one. The ovens look pretty small though, not very realistic for a someone that bakes often. Even still, pretty slick. jason | Homepage | 08.20.03 - 5:27 pm Jason, The ovens are supposed to be the same size as normal convection ovens, but they do look pretty small. The blue is great; that's the style I want, but in red. In my dream home of a big red barn... wow. Levi, I agree. Christmas should be confined to December, or at least not begin until after Thanksgiving. Jan | Homepage | 08.21.03 - 7:10 am Hobby Lobby is evil. My pocketbook told me so. Renee | Homepage | 08.21.03 - 12:22 pm But it's such a GOOD evil... Jan | Homepage | 08.21.03 - 3:09 pm I think I need to be more artsy fartsy. I've been living in my condo for a year and a half and there still aren't curtains on the sliding glass doors out to the patio. dan | Homepage | 08.21.03 - 7:06 pm Curtains, Shcmurtains! Who needs 'em? I say, put glass beads across the patio doors. Or staple long grass to the ceiling so that it hangs down in front of the doors. Or put a half wall in front of the doors and a bamboo screen on top of the wall. Oh my. I think I've been watching too much Trading Spaces. Jan | Homepage | 08.22.03 - 7:03 am |
To the August Index
August 22, 2003: Miss Understood
I haven�t written much about work. Perhaps it�s because it isn�t very important to me. It�s important in that it pays the bills, but other than that, there�s not much to recommend it. I started out working in the Roadway department, designing state and county roads and doing general CAD work. Sometime in my first year here, they needed a Hydraulic and Hydrologic Engineer; I volunteered. I was moved into the Structural department where I began performing flood studies. I still do flood studies and when the bridge guys get too busy or have a deadline, I�m often drafted into doing a little bridge design. Have I mentioned that I despise bridge design? This is a shame since The Boss seems to think I�m good at it.
All in all, it�s not bad work. I try to be philosophical about my co-workers. The last Friday of every month, The Company caters lunch for everybody. As there is always alcohol supplied at these lunches, most of my co-workers spend the last half of that Friday completely drunk. Once in a while, it�s entertaining; watching your boss rhumba on top of a co-worker�s desk while soaked to his eyeteeth can be a very interesting experience. For the most part, it�s a big pain. Needless to say, I�ve never participated in the drunken revelry; this has confused my co-workers. At first, they thought that I was too young; I still can�t believe that they thought I was under 21 � I was 25 when I first started working at The Company.
After many pointed questions about my age, it finally sank through that I just wasn�t interested in drinking. Well, in The Company, you can�t advance without being The Big Boss� drinking buddy. As is �encouraged� (Read that as �go if you know what�s good for you and your career.�) I went to Happy Hour with the rest of my co-workers. The first time I went I asked for lemonaid; from my co-workers� expressions, one would think I had asked for gasoline. After that, I stuck with Sprite. Eventually, I stopped going completely; I wasn�t asked to go after everyone figured out that I wasn�t going to make a fool of myself as they were prone to do.
Finally, The Boss called me into his office. He wanted to know why I wasn�t fitting in with every one else. He wanted to know why I wasn�t into The Company �spirit.� I refrained from saying that The Company �spirit� imbibed too much of the spirits for my taste. I said simply that I fit in fine with everyone and that I just didn�t drink. For a couple of days he seemed happy with that. Then the last Friday of the month came; The Company lunch was a fiesta complete with margaritas and tequila. Well, I like a Slush Puppy as much as the next guy, but I knew that margaritas were a lot more than just juice and crushed ice. Once again, I was the only sober one in the building.
The next Monday, I was again called in to see The Boss. Once again, he demanded to know why I wasn�t trying harder to fit in. I knew what he was saying; he wanted to know why I didn�t participate in getting soaked with the rest of The Company. I said that I fit in fine with my co-workers; I confess - that was a lie. They thought I was a freak and didn�t bother to hide their collective opinion. I simply told him that I didn�t drink; after all, it worked last time.
That was unacceptable to him. After being grilled for a good hour over why I wasn�t showing adequate Company �spirit,� I finally just told The Boss that my religion didn�t allow me to drink.
He was shocked. He�d never heard of such a thing. I suppose that for a Good Ol� Boy raised on mountain rye in Appalachia, this was a novel idea. He looked at me suspiciously. "Muslim?" This was just after September 11 and we�d all been pummeled with news stories of Muslim drinking habits.
"No, Mormon." If there was one thing I knew from being The Only Mormon my entire life, it was never to say "LDS" when asked what my religion was; people here have no idea what that means. Why not go ahead and explain? Well, here�s a typical conversation when I reply "LDS."
"What�s that?"
"It�s short of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints."
"Never heard of it."
"Yeah. There aren�t a lot of us in Georgia."
"Is that something like Catholic?" Most Good Ol� Boy southerners are suspicious of Catholics. I don�t know why, but I knew what to answer.
"No."
"That�s not foot-washing is it?" Most Good Ol� Boy southerners admire �foot-washers� and �snake-handlers.� I don�t know why.
"Um, no. Afraid not." And then I can�t help myself, "Do you want a Book of Mormon? That tells a little more about us."
"Mormon? Why didn�t you say so?"
"Well, that�s not really the name of the religion."
"Trying to hide sumptin, I guess."
Forget about trying to convince them that you weren�t being sneaky. Good Ol� Boy southerners are highly suspicious of Jehovah Witnesses and, because we have the same general missionary practices, that suspicion is transferred right onto us. Besides, I�m not sure what the big deal is about being called Mormon to begin with. It�s just political correctness rearing its ugly head, I guess.
After The Boss knew, word spread quickly. For most of them, I�m the only Mormon they�ve known. The good part of that is that they no longer pressure me to drink with them.
The bad part is that now, two of my co-workers have decided to regale me with stories of Utah. Well, I like Utah fine. Someday, I�d like to go. I�d like to see Temple Square lit up for Christmas (in December); I�d like to hear the Tabernacle Choir in person. I�d like to try skiing, hiking and (maybe) biking out there; I�ve heard from a cousin in Provo that it�s a wonderful place for outdoorsy type things.
But these two co-workers � I�ll call one The Great White Hunter and the other, The Redneck � insist on either telling me more than I ever wanted about Utah or telling me how much evidence there is against the Book of Mormon. I�ve never initiated a conversation with either of them.
The following is the last conversation I had with The Great White Hunter:
"Lot of bears in Utah."
I looked up from my monitors in confusion. "Hi. What?"
"Last time I went huntin' in Utah, I saw three bears. Did I tell you about the bears?"
How do I respond to that? His cube is next to mine; I�ve overheard him numerous times telling his buddies on the phone about his experience with the bears in Utah. I�d like to add that each time he retells the story the bears grow both in number and in weight. The story began with one bear cub the size of his coonhound and is now about three bears, two of which were taller than he. I decided to be honest. "I�ve heard about it. Scary."
"Not bad. But Utah�s a wild place. Lots of bears in Utah."
I�ve never heard such a thing about Utah, but was willing to take his word about it. "I didn�t know that. Wow."
"Did I tell you about the deer I shot with my bow in Utah?"
Of course, I�ve heard about this too from his phone conversations. "That was with the new bow wasn�t it?"
This was the wrong thing to say. He then told me all the details of his new bow. I�m afraid I can�t tell you about the new bow�s details; I can�t remember them. I think I must have blacked out through the last half of his monologue.
"So you should get to Utah. Aren�t you required to go for a pilgrimage or something?"
"Um no. I think you�re thinking of Islam and Mecca."
"Oh. Awful lot of y�all there."
"I�ve heard that."
"Couldn�t get a beer on Sunday. Didn�t like that."
This is also the same man who will stand by the coffee maker waiting for me to pass it to get to the fridge every morning. "Want some?" He�ll grin.
"No thanks." I just keep walking.
He�ll pass my cube with a Coke can in hand. "Want a sup?"
"No thanks."
But The Great White Hunter isn�t the bad one. He thinks he�s being friendly; he�s trying to talk to me about something he thinks I�m interested in. Why he thinks I�d be interested in hunting in Utah, I don�t know. But he�s generally friendly about it, even when he�s teasing me about coffee and Coke. The Redneck is much more annoying.
Last week I was working on a flood study when he struck.
"There was no wheat in South America before Columbus."
I looked up in confusion. "What?" I didn�t really hear him; I�d been concentrating.
"There was no wheat in South America before Columbus." He grinned. He was clearly proud of this fact. The reason why escaped me.
I blinked at him. I had no idea what had brought this on. "Wheat."
"There wasn�t any in South America before Columbus."
I was still clearly in the dark.
"The Book of Mormon mentions wheat. There wasn�t any before Columbus in the Americas."
Oh. This was going to be One of Those Conversations. I sighed; I was really busy and didn�t have time for this. "Oh. OK. Thanks." I went back to work.
"No horses neither."
He wasn�t going to stop. We�ve had this conversation before; this time I was prepared for it. I handed him the papers I�d been carrying around in my purse since the last time he�d begun a conversation about wheat and horses. They were FARMS papers about wheat and horses in the Americas before Columbus; I thought they were pretty convincing.
He didn�t even look at the papers. "You still believe?"
I sighed again. "Yeah. Go read those papers at lunch. They�ll explain why."
He tossed them in the trash can. "You eat chocolate."
Everyone knew that; I have a serious addiction to plain M&Ms and our vending machine only carries them with peanuts. Yuck; I�ve complained about it often. I said nothing.
"You eat chocolate so why can�t you have coffee? Chocolate has more caffeine."
I�d already explained that the whole coffee taboo was not necessarily about caffeine. Clearly, he didn�t care. He was out to prove a point and didn�t care if logic or fact got in the way of it.
The only thing I could do was to stop this ASAP. "Yep. Chocolate has more caffeine. Still can�t have coffee. I need to get back to this. I have a deadline coming up." The deadline was six months away and I only had one more month of work left on that project, but it was true; I did have a deadline coming up.
That tactic doesn�t always work with him, but luckily, he left.
At lunch yesterday, a friend (a co-worker) and I talked about what we wanted in life. We are both unhappy with our jobs. Honestly, my displeasure is more about the drunken parade that weaves its way through the office every month than it is about the work itself (though the work is bad, too); her problem is with the work.
We described our perfect futures. Hers involved a corner office and a secretary. Mine involved kids and homemaking. She laughed and said that I was just sick of working.
When she realized I was serious, she was shocked; how could I possibly want to give up my Career and didn�t I know that I could have both? I explained that while I could indeed have both, family and career would battle for my time and attention; in that situation, the family looses. I told her that family was more important to me and I didn�t mind sacrificing for it. She couldn�t believe it.
Maybe this is the point where I should mention that she�s a Baby Boomer. I get the feeling that she burned bras and staged sit-ins in the sixties and seventies. Needless to say, she�s a feminist and buys the whole mythology* associated with feminism*.
She was outraged. Didn�t I know that women died and suffered for my freedom? Didn�t I know how women were enslaved and now that we were finally free I was letting it be in vain? Didn�t I know that I could do a man�s job? I told her that it was my choice; I was not being �subjugated� into the whole barefoot and pregnant thing; I was volunteering for it. I don�t see how that�s a bad thing; she does. She blames it on the church.
Well, maybe she�s right; maybe the church is a big part of why I want to be a full time wife and mother. So what? She also doesn�t understand the Word of Wisdom either. She doesn�t understand why I fast the first Sunday of each month. She doesn�t understand why I feel bad about missing church on Sunday.
That�s OK. I don�t understand the allure (or use) of burning bras or staging sit-ins.
The American Idol 3 competition just left Atlanta*. Is it time for that again, already? Sheesh. I don�t know if I can go through that whole thing a third time. Before you know it, Survivor will be back.
This* is so cool. It will read your mind. I know it's done with math, but still. Awesome!
Speaking of Mars, I'm heading up to Stone Mountain Park* at the end of this month to see Mars up close and personal. I've got to find some binoculars to take with me. Or a telescope.
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Comments I dropped by earlier, but there was such a staggeringly huge mass of text in front of me that I had to wait until later to come back and read it. ;) At this rate, you'll have enough material for a novel in a year or so! Anyway, I can't stand people who must constantly harass others about their beliefs. That's just utterly lacking in class. I also choose to completely ignore reality shows, at least so far as it's possible to do so. Life is better this way, and I have no shortage of other ways to keep myself entertained. Levi | Homepage I know; along with that fertile imaginiation, I've also been cursed with verbosity. In high school I pitied my poor english teachers; on a one page assignment, I'd crank out five. Finally, word got around the teachers' lounge about it and they began setting maximum limits along with the minimums. Jan | 08.25.03 - 7:30 am |
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Monday, August 25, 2003: The Return (Mostly)
It�s strange, the things that you remember when you�re confronted with them after a ten-year absence.
Sitting in the congregation Sunday brought back so many memories: sitting between my grandfather and my father as I watched my mother play the organ; watching my cousin carry the water during Sacrament as I prayed fervently that he�d drop it or at least spill some on the bully that always pulled my hair; and eating the Fruit Loops my mother wisely provided when I�d have much rather been singing �C is for Cookie� like I had the Sunday before.
I forgot about the little dramas that occur in the pews among the children while the Sacrament was passed. I forgot about the toddlers smiling over the back of the pews. I forgot about the high volume of babies crying during Sacrament Meeting. I don�t remember there being so many children.
Everybody was very friendly. The building was very close to home; it was only a 25-minute drive. One of the missionaries just came from Rome; he knew a couple of my cousins.
Too bad it was the wrong ward.
It wasn�t even the right stake. A month ago I went to the church website and found the Meetinghouse Locator. Since my subdivision is new, it couldn�t find my address and gave me an address to email. I emailed with my address and the next day, I received an answering email.
Sugar Hill Stake, Sugar Hill Ward, 1:30PM
I am habitually early for everything; I have this psychotic fear of being late. So I arrived at church at 12:50. I was that early because I wasn�t sure where the building was and I gave myself a little more time to get there. Good thing I was early, too. Sugar Hill�s Sacrament starts at 1:00PM. Incidentally, Sugar Hill shares the building with Collins Hill and Pilgrim�s Mill. This has nothing to do with anything; I just thought it was funny that they rhymed.
After Sacrament, I went to the ward clerk�s office to see about finding my records; when he found out that I�d found this ward via the web, he was suspicious. It seems that the Meetinghouse Locator is wrong more often than not in Georgia. We found out that I�m in the Dacula Ward. The Dacula Ward�s building may or may not be 50-miles from my house. Everyone knows that Dacula is getting another building; no one is sure whether or not that building is finished and no one knows where that building is. So, this week I�ve got a little investigating to do.
As a non-Utah Mormon, I�ve often been jealous of members living in Utah. Oh, I�m not jealous of the low pay high-tech jobs or the strange fascination with fry sauce; I�m talking about the senses of belonging and acceptance that we non-Utah Mormons are sure the Utah Mormons must feel. I�ve heard (from a cousin living in Provo), that Utah Mormons have developed an, um, interesting habit of naming their children made-up names. In that spirit, I�ve decided to discover my true Utah Mormon name. And, conveniently, there�s a website to help me find it.
My Mormon name is An'Janae DaLynn!
What's yours?
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Comments Church members are spoiled out here in the west. Here, a 5 minute drive is incredibly far for a church building. I remember back in North Carolina or somewhere in the East, we had to drive 45 minutes or so to get to church. Congrats on making it to church again, and good luck tracking down your ward and building! Levi | Homepage | 08.25.03 - 11:38 am When I lived in Alabama (yuck) we had to drive 1 hour. When we first moved to Georgia, it wasn't much better - just 50 minutes. Jan | 08.25.03 - 11:53 am Life is definitely different in Utah than it was in New Hampshire but there were positive aspects of both places. I took a look at the Mormon name generator, and I have to take issue with his statement that "names like Zestpool and Zon'tl aren't uncommon." I have yet to meet any Zestpools or Zon'tls. dan | Homepage | 08.25.03 - 12:06 pm There's this web page that lists them both as female names. Jan | 08.25.03 - 12:12 pm Maybe I'm wrong but I feel like when a religion is the dominant one, it is easier to go through the motions because it's the norm culture instead of acting on belief. From what I've seen myself and heard from some friends who currently or used to live in UT, that's something of a struggle there. Catholics are a dominant force where I live. Lutherans dominate Wisconsin where I spent my summers as a youth. I see the same things. There's a lot of showing up on Sunday but not really having a testimony and living it. Of course, there's people strong in their faith regardless of where they live. I'm just saying that a majority brings its own set of problems along with the perks. Renee | Homepage | 08.25.03 - 1:41 pm Oh, and I'm Renette ClairAnn. Renee | Homepage | 08.25.03 - 1:43 pm Yeah, I know that there are drawbacks to both situations, but I would like - even for a little while - not to have to explain or deal with the "no horse and wheat in South America before Columbus" stuff. For once, I'd like to go to a company party and not have to drink water because the only other beverages available are beer and ice tea. That's all. I don't think I'd want to live in Utah. I've never driven in snow and have no desire to. But the idea of living someplace where I don't have to explain my non-alcohol habit is a sweet one. Jan | 08.25.03 - 1:54 pm Come on, driving in snow is fun challenge! Terrifying at times, exhilarating at others. But the scenery (once you get out of the city)... that makes it worth it. As for alcohol, I know what you mean. But when I get asked, usually by co-workers, why I don't drink I have a response which I geniunely ask: "Why *do* you drink?" Generally, they've never thought about it before. Renee | Homepage | 08.25.03 - 2:46 pm Please, if one snowflake drops in the northernmost Georgia mountains, the entire state runs out to go raid the grocery store for bread and milk and clean out the hardware stores' supplies of wood and batteries. I'm not kidding. The entire state shuts down. I'm certain that you have more snow plows, etc in one small city in Nebraska then we have in the entire state. This makes driving in snow in Georgia not only challenging, but also suicide. This is especially true if you are looking at the scenery and not concentrating on your driving! Jan | 08.25.03 - 3:12 pm Jan: That list was created by finding at least one person with a name. I don't doubt that two people sometime in the history of Utah have had that name. I take issue that they claim it's a common name. dan | Homepage | 08.25.03 - 4:38 pm Huh. I'm Denim Levi DeAaron. Even this silly program makes pants jokes out of my name. :P Oh, and doing donuts in the snow is much easier and less wearing on your tires than it is on pavement or asphalt. That's probably the only good thing about snow driving. Levi | Homepage | 08.25.03 - 4:40 pm Dan, I think the site said "names like Zestpoole" etc. I don't think that they meant there were a hundred or so Zestpooles walking around Utah. I think that they meant that there are a bunch of people with unusual names (like Zestpoole, for example). Levi, I have to say that your name isn't too unusual here in Georgia. Of course, all the Georgian Levis I've met (4) have really been named for the jeans. Um, and donuts? No way. My car is too precious to me to do anything like that. Jan | 08.26.03 - 7:05 am |
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Tuesday, August 26, 2003: Link Day
I usually write on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Since I have a doctor's appointment all tomorrow morning, I've decided to write today instead. But I'm feeling a little too lazy to write anything today.
Tuesday is nothing. I woke up this morning relieved that it wasn't Monday and utterly disappointed that it wasn't Wednesday yet. Wednesday is Friday's warm-up; anything can happen on a Wednesday and it's OK because Friday will soon appear. So Wednesday is good.
Tuesday is always bad like this. It's not the utter horror of Monday and not the breathless countdown that begins on Wednesday in anticipation of Friday. Tuesday is nothing more than Monday's hangover. At least when someone drinks alcohol, they have a good time before they pay with the hangover later. Tuesdays are the hangover one gets from feeling bad. Which makes it at least as bad as Monday, if not worse. At least Monday is preceded by the weekend. Tuesday is the headache one gets from throwing up all day the preceding day.
Now that I�ve grossed out most everyone, I�ll get on with the links.
Recently, Dan wrote about Metrosexuals* over at Amidst a Tangled Web*. I found a questionnaire for women on the same topic: Is your guy too girly?*
My aunt Kate works at the Gap. Recently, she asked for a raise and was denied. Her response, "You can pay Madonna five million for a crappy commercial and you can't raise my pay one more lousy buck an hour?"
She got the raise.
I bring this up because apparently my aunt and I are not the only ones who cringe when Madonna's Gap commercial airs*.
I�m on salary, which means that I don�t get paid overtime. This article* scares me.
Hawaiians are cool. They have a 1940 Ford Jet Powered Fire Truck*.
Threat rating: zero. Excellent work - you
demonstrate all the qualities of patriotism
that will make America even greater under Bush.
USA no.1!!!
What threat to the Bush administration are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Um. No. Sorta. If I have to have a label, make it "Libertarian" please. Thanks.
But really, I think I'm more of an independant as I can't seem to agree with any one political party on everything.
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Comments
What a silly quiz. It thinks I'm morally deficient, and a medium threat to the Bush administration. The quiz author obviously has an agenda to push. Although the structure of a 9 to 5 40 hour work week is kind of nice when compared with a part-time retail job when you don't know your schedule until the week before, I wouldn't mind working a few extra hours in exchange for the ability to choose when I do my work. Of course, if I had the discipline to pull that off, I'd probably be doing consulting work right now. Levi | Homepage | 08.26.03 - 11:20 am Oh, I agree; there was obviously an agenda. There weren't any good answers to any of the questions. I work for an engineering consulting firm and we still can't choose. Well, we can choose between the 7-4 schedule and a 8:30-5:30 schedule. If I leave work at 5:30 I won't get home until 7. Yuck. I work 7 to 4. Always. This way I'm home by 5. The Boss talked about working 4 ten hour days a week once, but The Bigger Boss cut that one down before it went anywhere. I would LOVE to work 4 ten hour days a week. And flex time? I would love that, too. Jan | 08.26.03 - 11:36 am It would be kind of nice to be done with work at 4pm every day, but I don't know if I've got the willpower to get to bed early enough to get enough sleep to pull it off. A couple of days of going to bed at 1am and waking up at 6am would render me a mindless zombie. Levi | Homepage | 08.26.03 - 1:56 pm I was going to take the girly guy test but #4 (cars) didn't have an option for my Maxima. Even without that I got a 13. I haven't put in a 40-hour week in years. The lowest I put in now is 45, but it's usually 50+ and sometimes over 60. dan | Homepage | 08.26.03 - 2:06 pm Oh no Levi; I get up at 4AM. I leave for work at 6. When I first started, I was a mindless zombie. You get used to it; eventually your body will make you get the sleep you need by falling asleep everywhere it possibly can. The good side of that is that you can have fun with friends/family by pretending to be narcoleptic. Dan, it's a pain to be responsible. Because I'm a salaried worker, I don't count the overtime. There's no use to it and I'll only get upset at all the hours I work without pay. (And it really accumulates as I'm paid monthly.) It keeps my stress levels down. Generally, I work 6:30AM to 4PM. But again, I say 7-4 to keep myself happily sane. Jan | 08.26.03 - 3:10 pm Well, I'm not taking the quiz. I've had my fill of politics this month. I'll give myself a 5 day break 'til September. As for Tuesdays, well, I'm going on vacation Friday and time cannot pass slower for me. Instead of reading doc on a product I need to support, I'm checking prices on memory for my camera. As for Madonna, interesting article - I'd like to see the Devo commercial. I have no opinion about the commercial except that I can't understand what Missy Elliott is singing. Renee | Homepage | 08.26.03 - 3:48 pm I can't tell much either. I think it's something about the jeans since all I can make out is: "Where you get them jee-ah-eens?" Jan | 08.26.03 - 4:03 pm I'm like Dan. I put in a 9-hour day last week and felt guilty about leaving. It's weird 'cause some people at work do a strict 8-hour shift, and for others, that's inconceivable. Europeans have been working less and less though. I think England just passed a law where it's illegal to work more than 43 hours in a week. Germany is more around 38 hours I think, and France has gone to a 4-day work week. Cameron | 08.27.03 - 10:01 am Jan: I am salaried as well and get nothing for the extra hours I put in. I keep track because of a morbid curiosity. dan | Homepage | 08.27.03 - 11:26 am |
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Friday, August 29, 2003: Low Attention Span Day -or- Writing in Circles
I love Gilbert and Sullivan operettas. They�re witty, they�re smart, and they move very, very fast. I own three different versions of their most well known operetta, The Pirates of Penzance. I watched two last night: the Kevin Kline/Linda Rondstadt* version and the Stratford Festival* version. I also own the Opera World version, but I refuse to watch that train wreck a second time. Well, I guess to watch it a second time, I�d need to finish watching it the first; the horror of its utter yuckiness is indescribable. I couldn�t finish watching it.
There is nothing better than curling up on the couch with a quilt to watch G&S at home.
I bought a house last November. It�s a cute 2000 square foot ranch on one-third of an acre. With three bedrooms, a finished bonus room above the two-car garage, and two baths, it�s more than I need. Until recently, it�s been pretty empty. The hand-me-down furniture from my old one bedroom apartment didn�t even come close to filling it. People have thought that I�m crazy for buying a home alone. I have to say that knowing that I am solely responsible for the house has kept me up at nights.
It�s been as rewarding as it has been demanding. As much as I hate mowing the lawn, I enjoy looking at the freshly mowed lawn and feeling like I�ve accomplished something, even if it is just mowing the lawn. Yesterday, my fig tree produced its first ripe fig. I feel really silly to admit it, but I�ve never felt more pride at something than I did when I found that fig. There are about twenty more figs on the tree right now, and I guess that in a week or two, they�re going to be ripe. I can�t wait.
I need to start looking for a good way to can them, assuming I have enough to do so. If I don�t, well, I guess I need to start looking for fig recipes.
When I was a little girl in Alabama, my grandfather grew figs. He had two huge fig trees that would produce massive amounts of figs all summer and fall. My cousins and I would eat figs all day, our skins as browned from the sun as the figs�. Our hands and feet filthy from the dirt, we hollered around chasing lightening bugs and crickets in the shadow of Papa�s big yellow house. Until last November, that was the only home I�d lived in that was owned by a family member.
I don�t run around chasing lightening bugs and crickets these days, but I will admit to picking that fig barefoot in the shadow of my little white house and crying as I remembered Papa and his fig trees.
So maybe I do run around chasing crickets these days. Does anybody know how to get rid of crickets? They�ve invaded my home. Everywhere I turn, I�m stepping on crickets. It�s forced me to wear shoes in the house, which is completely unnatural.
Speaking of going barefoot, in the Kline/Ronstadt version of the Pirates of Penzance, the sisters take off their shoes. In the Stratford Festival version, they take off their dresses. It�s very, very funny when Fredrick alerts them to his presence. Oh, it�s not immodest. After all, in Victorian England, ladies� underwear was less revealing than modest modern swimsuits.
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Comments
Seagulls. Lots of lots of Seagulls. dan | Homepage | 08.29.03 - 10:54 am You know how hard it is to get seagulls this far inland? Not to mention the trouble of getting them in the house. Plus, there's the mess after they're gone. Ew. Thanks, but I don't think that'll work. Unless there's some Divine Intervention involved, it ain't gonna happen with seagulls. I was hoping that someone would know something about cricket traps as I'd rather not have a zillion dead cricket carcases laying around the house. Jan | Homepage | 08.29.03 - 11:58 am Jan, Cameron | Homepage | 08.29.03 - 7:36 pm Hey Jan! I just came to you via Renee. I love P.O.P! Such a cute production. =) Heather | Homepage | 08.31.03 - 11:21 pm Cameron, I'm in Georgia - it's closer to the Atlantic Ocean than Alabama, but I have to tell you, I've never seen a seagull this far inland. I'm about four hours away from the coast. As to a large pond in my yard, would that be a Pond of Dreams? Heather, I agree. POP is awesome. Jan | 09.02.03 - 7:29 am Jan, Cameron | 09.04.03 - 4:41 pm Cameron, Why feel dumb? It�s not like you can remember every single little thing about every blogger on whose site you comment. It�s cool. I just don�t want anyone to think that I voluntarily live in Alabama. Yuck. =) And I do live in metro-Atlanta. Jan | 09.10.03 - 4:15 pm |
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