That coffee working for ya?

Me: How do I get to the file?

Coworker: The access number is the zip code, backwards.

Me: (beep beep beep beep beep)

Me: It didn't work!

Coworker: Not your zip code. (Implied: dipsh*t!!)

Me: Oh, um, yeah, the office zip code.

Bad winter!

Even though I'm not a huge fan of the cold, in general, I'm fond enough of the wintertime to appreciate the benefits that cooler weather brings: no bugs, possibilities of sledding and outdoor skating, less unintended sweating, chances to pile on blankets, heavy sweaters and cute coats, greater enjoyment of hot drinks (ummmm, cocoa), and free license for satisfying cravings for comfort food (ummmm, pot pie).

But.

[rant]

I HATE the dry air. Dry air = dry skin = I'M ALWAYS ITCHY!!!!! ALL THE TIME ITCHY!

I look like I have fleas, or lice, or a rash, or all of the above, because I'm constantly, not-always-surreptitiously scratching at myself, MUCH LIKE A MONKEY. Slathering on moisturizers from head to toe, morning, noon, and night, only make me sticky and itchy at the same time. Bleah Bleah Bleah!!!!!!!!!

[/rant]

Oh, also, dry skin + wool sweaters = I want to die from the itchiness!!!!!!!

Just wanted to share.

New resolution

To answer rudeness in kind and to call out undeserved presumption.

In other words:

Get rid of the so-called friends that never think of anything but their own convenience. Age is not an excuse for being inconsiderate and a lack of consideration is going to be a strong indicator for termination of friendship.

But.

Are people who don't know that they are inconsiderate worth keeping? Should an effort be made to educate them on their grating qualities, or should contact simply be phased out of existence? I used to feel terribly when I didn't like someone, or someone didn't like me, but I'm finding that, at least in this one aspect, my hide is getting much tougher with age. My time spent socially is becoming exponentially more valuable, and therefore, I have less and less patience for those whose company I do not actually enjoy. For some, the line between enjoyment and irritation has grown razor-thin. What to do in such a case?

Oh, Corduroy!

Thank you for providing an oasis of calm, privacy, competence, and deliciousness in an otherwise trying weekend. The food was top-notch (lamb! spinach! scallops! hazelnut bars!), the service was impeccable and friendly, and the atmosphere delightfully soothing. We hope that the transition moves smoothly ahead and you will be soon be available to once again provide a haven for the nervy, hungry masses.

Love,

Your grateful patrons

We could go to the tropics

...or we could go north.

Which would you pick in the dead of an unspectacularly cold, Mid-Atlantic winter? I, scoffing at the effete clime of my adopted land, bluffly assert that New England is Eden in January. In a fit of misguided parity, generous condescension, and a heaping dollop of the filial guilt that continually skims the surface of my soul, I decide to Go Home for a quick jaunt. (Well, all that and the promise of skiing. I'm a big fan of sliding down mountains covered in snow, rather unlike the icy hills of Pennsylvania. Who needs the beach, anyway?) A weekend in the country! What could be more fun?

Well, even if I hadn't dragged along a creature steadfastly averse to freezing wind and darkness, pulling all of my teeth out with rusty, lockjaw-ridden pliers would have been a total gas in comparison to the experience.

Was it the inevitable last-minute plane delay? The kindly meant, transportationally enabling gesture of an erratic, ever-so-slightly inebriated driver? Perhaps the awkwardness of meetings and greetings among old and new acquaintances. Was it the concerned cluckings of church folk? Being goaded into a declaration of intention? It certainly wasn't the sharing moment of a favorite childhood meal (Go, Papa's!) or the rambling, lecture-style, getting-to-know-you conversation.

Could it have been the rising fumblings in the early darkness? Or the windchill, felt all the more sharply on bald slopes. Maybe the concurrent fear of windburn and frostbite, added to burning muscle fatigue and strain? Was it the many, mind-numbing hours spent participating, through a tired haze, in a Great American Pastime that ordinarily holds, for us, no interest?

Perhaps it was the frustration of dealing with indecisiveness and general incompetence. Or the sheer boredom in trailing after folk pursing their daily activities. I think it might have been the halfhearted, ill-timed tour that did not yield any destinations of interest, though the forced small talk amidst the whipping winds probably didn't help. The small annoyances at the airport, while irritating, were minuscule when compared to the malaise of the day.

It's difficult to pinpoint the instance that signalled the disastrous failure of the weekend. Any of these moments could have ruined a weekend, but the combination of them ultimately culminated in a general impression of excruciating misery.

That, and the knowledge that we could/should/longed to/will, next time, I promise! have gone to the Bahamas, instead.

Please, this is how I already feel

and I'm not even married.

http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/b776c00c54

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Coffee is funny

a) It tastes so delicious! Especially with french vanilla (fake) creamer and lots of (fake) sugar!

b) But my eyes still feel heavy and (are, I'm sure) all droopy.

c) While my body is very Awake! So Alive! And a little trembly!

Love is...

Getting your child to understand their faults so they will hate themselves and become obsessive about stamping those parts of themselves out.

If the child does not agree with your view of a fault?

Berate them to tears and misery until they understand how despicable you (and the rest of the world, naturally) find them to be in their present state and how all their problems can be solved by ameliorating this fault and doing your bidding.

After all, you know what's best, and it is your job to instill a sense of self-loathing so deep-seated and extreme that no matter what they accomplish, your child will never be satisfied with the state of his or her soul/body/mind/health/finances/relationships and will always strive to become a better individual.

********************
I have extremely loving parents.

Have you ever even met a human?

Currently: take a wild guess

For all those socially-challenged people out there:

If you are harping on a subject and your conversational partner has indicated, with lessening degrees of civility that the conversation is over, the subject is an unwelcome topic, your point is more than well made, stop talking already, you are not helping your cause, this is becoming downright unpleasant, please leave me alone, you are being a jerk by pushing this, there is no need to discuss this any further - jackass, get the FUCK away from me, shut up and die, I hate you and wish you to Hades...

Please understand that your conversational partner is inches (Centimeters! Millimeters, even!) away from punching you in the face and might lose their temper at any moment, even if you are their boss, parent, lover, overlord, etc.

Just FYI.

LOL

Usually, I'm not one for LOLcat humor, but this has me giggling like a loon:

Done to death? Sure. Childish and silly? Oh, definitely! Absolutely HIGH-larious? Yeah, yeah, WOO! At least to me. Thank you, Internets!!! I needed that!

Somewhat random cooking night

Warning: prepare to be hungry!!!

Looking at the food below, you wouldn't think that we actually plan what we will eat /stock the fridge/cook during the week, because they go together Not At All. But we do, and often take a weekend day/night to cook at batch of this, that, and the wayyyy other to eat all week long. So it makes a lot more sense in the context of not having to eat these things all at once. Which would be gross.

Some of this food I made, some I got to eat, and some I just looked at and wrinkled my nose. Guess which is which!

The first London Broil made at my house actually as London Broil! Usually I just chop it up and use it to season dishes. It doesn't get more quintessentially American than this!

Aloo matar. Visiting the subcontinent.

Meanwhile, in the land of the soup initiative...(lentil, again.)

Salt and pepper shrimp. Apparently, a Chinese dish, though I really wouldn't know.

My dinner, plated. Those are some mashed 'taters rescued from some gnarly potato eye growth in the cupboard. Not pictured, and not making it to the plate, was a pan of roasted cauliflower that was eaten as soon as it came out of the oven. Greedy cooks!

So how's that for spanning the globe in one night!

A new kitchen toy

Plop, plop. Whiz, whizzz. Oh, what a delight it is!

Gives the soup initiative a whole new texture. Ummmm, sludgy...

Memo

DATE: January 15, 2008

TO: Esteemed Colleague

FROM: Frazzled Colleague

SUBJECT: Mitts off!

Dear Esteemed Colleague,

Thank you for taking materials off my desk without informing me. When I was unable to find the document I needed to complete a task, I assumed that I had misplaced it. As the days went by and it was neither in my office (having thoroughly ransacked it) nor my home, I assumed that I had lost the primary source, client-owned document. Since I rather enjoy feeling like a feckless fool, I thank you for this opportunity to contemplate my personal failings. In the future, please feel free to avail yourself of any items in my workspace that might spark your interest.

NOT.

Turns out my vacuum sucks

Well, that is.

After mnbcv years of obediently using my vacuum cleaner according to the directions; that is, setting it to high for my carpet and low for my bare floors, it was kindly pointed out to me that my Berber carpet and floor rug are not nearly as tall as typical wall-to-wall carpeting. I turned the setting down a few notches and behold! Suddenly immaculate flooring!

Who knew?

A company party

Country clubs generally = posh. Ah, yes. Lax security, grandiose setting, luxurious beige-y interior, brimming with not-exactly-overeager staff, check.

The food was surprisingly decent.

The music, alack, was not.

Four needlesticks and a shot

I have tricky veins for the bloodletting, but for some reason, the puncturists never seem to pay attention when I'm telling them how to access my recalcitrant veins. They invariably, "um-hmmmmm" while I'm not-so-idly chatting about this one time a mean, incompetent person had to stick me multiple time in multiple places to get to the blood, which can actually be accomplished rather painlessly (comparatively) if one would simply use a butterfly needle placed thusly. And alas, I am left to sit there stoically, hissing only slightly and biting my lip, but soldiering on, as the technician unnecessarily roots around in my soft, tender flesh, looking for that "darn vein, it was just here a second ago." Even if they do find it, a larger needle simply collapses the vein before enough blood is drawn, prompting a new bloodletting place. Ahem, my hand. I hate seeing needles sticking out of my hand.

Sigh. Such is my (melodramatic) lot in life.

And no, I don't donate blood anymore. I'm simply not that much of a masochist.

Slap him?

I was walking out of the grocery store when a small, blond boy, about yea tall, perhaps 6 or 7, with a shy, impish smile, tugged on my sleeve. He lisped,

"Lady, get me some chocolate?"

I smiled, irritatedly, because this ruddy, well-fed child wasn't exactly a beggar boy, said "no, sorry" and turned away. There was some muttering behind me, and I didn't get more than a few steps away when I was accosted in the rear.

That is to say, I was smacked in the butt.

I whirled quickly, exclaiming quite loudly, "Are you kidding me??!!"

It wasn't the 7-year old rogue, but his smaller, nearly identical brother, whose face was already smeared with something brown. Chocolate, I presumed/hoped. He laughed and pumped one fist in the air, clutching his other fist to his mouth. The nearest cashier, who had seen the whole exchange, gasped and giggled. I turned to the tall, blond, woman to whom the smaller blond boy had retreated.

"Is this your child?" I asked.

She nodded wordlessly, worriedly, having missed out on the scene.

"He just hit me in the butt!" I declared, equal parts angrily and bemusedly.

She made a shocked and horrified face, and immediately crouched down and began to say, "Oh no!" over and over again to her errant offspring, shaking him just the slightest bit. I added, "We don't do that to people!" waggling my finger in my most priggish manner, but was completely ignored. I gestured to the older boy, saying, "He asked me to buy him candy, and when I said no, this one (gesturing to the younger) hit me!" The mother never looked my way, but continued to gently berate her unrepentant, grinning spawn. I gleaned that he had already received many of these admonishments over his short life; none of which, judging from his pleased and sunny expression, had yet made any impact.

When it became apparent that no apology was forthcoming, I walked off, disgusted and annoyed, ending the encounter.

Except:

I wish I'd told that lady to teach those spoiled little monsters some manners and to keep their mitts to themselves before someone "accidentally" slaps them silly.

Music, culture, and ahhhhht

I'm glad I got a chance to go 'round the Edward Hopper exhibit of iconic American images. It's nice to see them in the flesh, to view and almost feel the texture of the work, but otherwise, it's less exciting than you might think it would be. Because you've already seen the image, or derivatives of the image, so many times in other media, even though you know, intellectually, that you are standing in front of the progenitor image, your emotional response automatically translates as "old hat." Still, his images of people's solitude were uniquely compelling. I also liked the part of the exhibit that compared his house models between the paintings and photographs of what they look like now. Neat, and a little sad (some major deterioration).

********************

What is, "culture, anyway? Some (dictionary.com) would define it as an "acquaintance with and taste in fine arts, humanities, and broad aspects of science as distinguished from vocational and technical skills." But, how to consume this, "culture"? Wouldn't taking in of art and music be define as an act of consuming, "culture"?

********************

The 1,626? concert at the National Gallery reminded me of why I stopped going to those concerts, except for certain performers of interest. The atrium is a delightful and beautiful place to sit and listen to music, but unfortunately, most instruments echo rather unbecomingly off the stone hall's vaulted ceilings and the character of the sound is more muddled than would be acceptable in less exalted (and free!) venues. Still, the acoustics are kind to woodwinds and the human voice, so the chamber group that played, featuring flute, clarinet, and oboe, among others, was a nice chance to get back to this most pleasurable activity. The program was an interesting mix of all musical eras, spanning baroque to contemporary. Having the Carter piece interplayed between the Vivaldi and the Mozart was almost a bad musical joke. The audience was visibly relieved to be back in the land of tonality, even after the astonishing and virtuosic performance. Sitting there, consuming musical fine art, pondering artists' performance and program choices, I felt very civilized and slightly knowledgeable; both extremely pleasurable feelings! Oh - plus, you know, fun.

White fish and 'taters for a week

The eating healthier resolution might have become a fixation on white fish. And potatoes, of course, because we're not trying to deny ourselves all things delicious. (And because I might be convinced that I'm secretly Irish.) So it's been more than a week of various forms of whitefish and potatoes. Not just those items, but they are prominently featured about once per day.

Let's see:

Blackened catfish, roasted potatoes, and green beans

Cod chowder

Fish and chips

More cod chowder

There's still cod chowder left.

Why did I make so much cod chowder!!!

You get the idea...

(Last night we had blackened catfish, rice, and peas. Today I'll finish off the cod chowder. Tomorrow it's blackened tilapia. I hope I still like fish after this...)

The soup initiative lives!

So, last week I made some soup.

(Lentil soup and cod chowder. Lots of it.)

So, how'd we do?

Let's take a look at how well I've progressed in my 2007 resolutions, shall we?

Better fitness, preferably through dance or dance-like vigorous movement
Er, no. Due to sickness and thesis and travel and all sorts of other excuse-making activity, I am sad to report that my fitness level has most certainly decreased since this time last year. On the bright side, what vigorous movement I did make included far more dancing, or, more accurately, somewhat dance-like-movement, than ever before. So, let's say that this resolution is a keeper for 2008. Maybe even to be expanded into taking an actual dance class (not just the flailing kind, but the kind that involves real steps. With names.).

Better hair care and perhaps, um, even styling?
Hmmmm, I think this one leans towards a 50-50 split. While I wasn't exactly proactive with the styling (I did wear a headband a few times, but mostly it stayed up in its bun.), I used much more expensive hair products (but bought on sale!! So not much net increase in spending!!!) that resulted in a thicker, shinier, and in general, a much improved mane. I think that this one could use more work, because I look better with my hair down, but in order for it to stay down and out of my way, it has to be styled. So have at it!! Keep for 2008.

Learning the art of food (and other types of) photography
Um, not really. I threw a few food pics up here throughout the year, but that's pretty much it. Must keep snapping, must keep snapping...KEEP.

Allowing myself to be loved by and to love others
I did better with this one, I think, than I might have done on my own without having decided specifically to work on this issue. So, yay! Some personal growth! But only a little. KEEP IT!

It turns out that I made pretty good resolutions in 2007, so it only makes sense to try and keep them up in 2008. I just have a few things to add:

Add to better fitness, better eating in general. In other words, cut down on the crap. I want to eat delicious things, so I will continue to do so, but I will emphasize those foods that I like that are delicious and healthy (well, -er) and try to cut portion sizes of less healthy things.

Make shit. Well, not literally. But I have huge backlog on crafty projects and was recently reminded of how much I like building things with my own two hands, as well as how much the people in my life appreciate such things. So look out, Christmas 2008, get ready for my workshop to burst into fruitfulness. Or, you know, produce a few (hopefully) nice things.

Pay down debts. I have a plan, and I'm sticking to it!! 2009 should see one less debt on my portfolio.

Use Netflix more. Duh, obvious.

Get more vitamin D. I don't see the sun a whole lot, and even though I drink milk and take vitamins, yada yada, the easiest way to actually absorb this sexy, newly rediscovered vitamin is to spend 10 minutes outside in the sun each day. Or wear a tank top and open up my office windows. So. Not. Hard. Since the rather balmy winter temperatures have been providing a pleasant walking environment, it wouldn't hurt me to take a turn about the office grounds once a day.

I think that's more than enough resolving. I also make more than I can handle, anyway!!! We'll see how this year pans out. Go, me!

Dish towels, a broom, and a fat suit

Name of my upcoming biopic.

Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas wishes from the fam.

Or both?

You decide.

Masons > Mormons

We got to go inside their temple.

Happy New Year!!!