Investment

Last, last week:

Monday: Ack! There goes my 401(k). Maybe oh-so-expensive babies aren't in my future. Hmmm, or should I maybe think about buying while prices are low??

Tuesday: How about now? If the banking slump is over then now is a good time...

Wednesday: Ugh, CAN'T look at my account balance. Actually, that's literally true - I can't look at my investment balance sheet because I don't know how. Guess I'll just wait until my quarterly statement comes, because right now is SO NOT THE TIME to learn how to monitor the day-to-day movement!

Thursday: Should I buy now? How about now?

Friday: Ugh, obviously not now. But at least I still have a retirement account.

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Last week:

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That is all.

Wait, what about now?

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This week:

See last week.

Phrases of the week

"Hard-faced cow."

"Dumb as hair."

They really are so useful in everyday life, don't you think?

The beginning of wisdom

Keep yer' dang mouth shut when ridin' a bike...

Thanks, G.D.

Thinking back about last week, after a long day at (actual) work, there's nothing like hopping into your (horrible) car, taking a quick (traffic-less, thank GOD, such a treat from D.C. life) jaunt into the city, finding free (close-by) parking, and strolling into (a bustling) Restaurant Gary Danko at prime time and being able to immediately snag a seat at the bar.

Impressions:

-Dave the bar guy will take care of you, even when you aren't desperately ill

-magically crispy fish skin makes another starring appearance

-polenta pairs so beautifully with lamb

-"the food here just tastes so damn good!"

-"dry soda" is an interesting, alcohol-free concept. Also, I like lavender soda. Would would've thunk?

-This is my favorite restaurant in North America

Socrates, BAH!

I have utmost respect for the Socratic teaching method, when the classes are composed roughly along the lines of ancient seminars - that is, small, informal classes with participants educated to roughly the same level. And, that is, when the teacher moderates the discussion to ensure that the actual answer is correctly derived. Oh, and inhomogeneous view don't hurt, either, for broader learning opportunities.

However, in a large class that is being taught remotely (when you ping in, the camera swivels malevolently and stares down at you, focusing on EEK! my pores!; also, the microphones are often on the fritz) in several locations, I fail to see the value in such a heavy emphasis, nay, requirement, on class participation. Lectures are supposed to convey information, not poll for (distressingly similar) opinions (everyone should say their piece! Even if they are all saying the same thing! In not-so-very-different words!).

Hello, school? I would like some knowledge, please. From the highly trained, elite professionals? No, I really don't care what my classmates think. Thank you.

(I could say that this bespeaks the unholy democratization of higher learning and society in general, where in-depth, superior knowledge is discounted and personal experience and/or viewpoints are held up as the new standard or goal, but that is just too depressing to contemplate at this juncture in the political scene.)

Hygiene revolution

The Jelly Belly plant tour was a lot of fun - seeing rainbows of fruit flavors being tumbled into existence, hearing the cheesy tourspeak (the unlikely true-life success story of the Little Company That Could's rise from humble beginnings to its market dominance today, complete with historical footage of President Reagan snogging jelly beans!), getting a free packet of jelly beans, and, tada!, the chance to take a commemorative picture Mr. Jelly Belly himself (yes, there is a picture floating in the cosmos of me and a coworker posing with a giant plush jelly bean, and no, we did not have work pay to obtain documentation of the event).

Because I don't really care for jelly beans, I always discount how much I will enjoy the tasting bar. That's because I forget how truly superior Jelly Belly gummy candy (worms! bears! Halloween shapes such as spiders and bats! sour everything! Yum Yum Yum!!!) is to all other brands (even my beloved Haribo!!). They are just so amazingly chewy-soft (especially the gummy spiders, with their large, blobby, almost-gooey bodies) and explosively fruity, and I severely underestimate how much I should buy (*cut to a few days later, with me looking down at the empty bag with a brow furrowed in confusion and despair, wailing, where have all my gummies gone??!!*).

Anyhow, what struck me most about the tour, more so even than the myriad other food processing facilities I've visited, was the absolute and fanatical cleanliness of the production floor. Millions of partially (jelly centers only, and also the gummy candies) and fully assembled jelly beans lay in open-faced boxes, on conveyor lines, in tumbling drums, and were otherwise strewn throughout the plant for days at a time (did you know that it takes about a week to make a jelly bean!!!). Without a single bug, mouse, or even a speck of dirt in sight! Such thorough extermination of vermin and other agents of impurity is actually breathtaking to contemplate (especially for one who has taken a course on the history of human hygiene). While I've never been upset by the production conditions of the food processors I've visited, I've never been quite so tempted to eat colored sugar off the floor.

(Just kidding, there actually weren't any jelly beans or jelly bean ingredients on the floor, which is case in the amazing point.)

That, my friends, is the antiseptic promise of modern living.

Dodge Caliber

HATE it!

Heavy steering, huge blind spots (I really only felt safe driving at night, when all the headlights made it easier to see cars in other lanes), non-ergonomically designed doorways (seemed specifically designed to knock your elbow/knee/head on the doors and the side panels) - making it hard to get in and out of (I'm short, and I still had to crank my neck at an uncomfortable angle to avoid bonking my head), drives like dump truck (feel every bump and crack in the road from here to the border! Enjoy!), such poor noise insulation that listening to the radio on the highway requires a full cranking (then, when you slow down, you realize how deaf you are going to be because of the ridiculous loudness), and, to top it all off, terrible gas mileage. We went through an entire tank in three days, not really driving anywhere.

Oh, and it's ugly!

So, to sum up, DO NOT RENT THIS CAR!!!!!!! You (and your monkey) deserve better!!!!!!!

Working hard

Finish inspection by 9 AM.

Tour the Jelly Belly factory (as civilians). Eat a lot of gummy candy at the (free!) tasting bar. Buy lots of Jelly Belly products.

Flit through an olive oil and flavored vinegar tasting.

Get bubble tea and eat deep-fried, spicy chicken bites.

Drive through Napa.

Dally at our favorite winery. Go through the whole cheese and pate tasting, followed by an extra-long wine tasting (whites for me, reds for the others, but I get to sip from their glasses, too).

Buy much more wine than intended (I was going to stop at 2 bottles this year!).

Stop by a little Italian grocery store, complete with adorable clerk who makes change (credit cards, ha!) from a tin cash box while chattering in fast-paced Italian with her mom on the phone.

Have lunch at the Culinary Institute of America at Greystone (castle). (Yes, they are still learning, but for the most part, delicious. With unbeatable scenery.)

Pop in my favorite champagnerie (who knew it was just off the main drag! Found it again!! Hooray!!!) a few minutes before closing and buy still more (sparkling) wine.

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Some days, I love my job.

More like terrified

I am very scared that I will lose my ring. After all, my sister has lost three (!!!) and I am not exactly the least absent-minded person in the world.

The taking it off and putting on at home is bad enough - each day when I get home, I try to put it in the same place on the jewelery box. The first few weeks were fine, but I'm beginning to get sloppy - leaving it on difference tables and surfaces. The chances of it getting thrown out someday with the recycling is rather high.

I'm nearly certain, however, that I'll eventually lose it while on travel. At the hotel I put it in a prominent place with my watch - which I haven't lost in the 8 years I've been wearing it (but it's so much bigger than a ring!!!). So far, so good, but still, I worry.

I can't just wear it all day and night - it will get dirty/chipped/ugly if I keep it on for washing the dishes and taking a bath. Plus, I'm still not used to having it on. Actually, I'm just worried that I'm going to destroy it in daily living - I bang into walls/desks/pretty much all available abrasive surfaces with great regularity, and pearl is not known for its strength or hardness. I begin to perceive the beauty in a diamond's durability. Though, if we'd opted for a solitaire, I would've probably taken out someone's (my own!) eye by now...

Argh.

12 hours and counting...

So, the best we can do to minimize travel time is by booking a direct flight. Even though direct flights are a disappearing (and therefore increasingly more valuable) commodity, as long as I'm flexible with inconvenient departure times, I can usually find one that will suit my needs. Still, a direct flight is no guarantee against a 12 hour+ day, even though the flight is technically on time, when:

- You have to check at least one bag

- They hold the flight for stragglers (they NEVER hold it for me!!!)

- The airport has "lost" your plane's arrival gate

- The cargo hold doors are jammed

- You just miss the shuttle train

- The rental place doesn't have any cars in your reserved size

- You get lost due to poor and belatedly placed signage

- The destination isn't actually anywhere near the airport

...Thank GOD I'm on the West coast. Even if our next day is supposed to start at 7, I at least have a shot at waking up that early, thanks to the precious, precious time difference...

Rallying

Currently: feeling slightly displaced

It was so close to my bike route that I couldn't refrain from stopping by. I actually went past the park at first, but the roaring in the near-distance drew me back. I wheeled my bike in close, joining the streaming crowds. My baby blue tank top (an unintentional statement, but an accurate one), swam, lonely, in a sea of red shirts (I kept expecting some of them to keel over, dying theatrically). The small group of protesters were half-heartedly engaged in a OBAMA!-NOBAMA! call and answer with the buttons/hats/signs/other-paraphernalia-of-all-sorts vendors, but the majority of the crowd ignored them. I thought about going in, but security was daunting and work was wailing its siren call (You're late!!!!). Plus, you know, the helmet.

The bike path was closed, due to the area being crawling with police, so I had to turn back after walking alongside the be-suited, enthusiastically squealing and/or paraphernalia-waving crowds to the security gate. I wheeled my bike slowly back the way I came, enjoying the spectacle, but slightly dismayed by the size of the crowd (there are Republicans in NOVA! Lots of 'em!).

When I got to the street where I made my original turn towards the rally, I saw the policeman in charge of that intersection hop on his motorbike and turn on his lights. A moment later, a phalanx of motorcycle cops drove through. Then followed a series of black SUVs and vans, and, finally, the Straight Talk Express. It was neat, seeing the convoy carrying The Man and That Woman, but mostly I was thinking that the safety of high-profile figures in America depends remarkably on the goodwill of the public.

So, my first non-rally. I tried to watch some of the live streaming video of the speeches over the WaPo, but the feed kept cutting out. There was a special thrill seeing that coverage, knowing that I'd walked past the site just minutes before - even overcoming the annoyance that they'd closed off a great deal of my usual bike route. Maybe when the Other Guy comes to town...

Pretzel time

Last go-around at physical therapy, part of my regimen included "therapeutic massage." I was very excited when she told me that it would part of my treatment - I love realllllly hard kneading in massages and figured that even PT, medical massage would be delightful.

WRONG.

This time around, I am being stretched. Even with a partner, you just can't target the small muscles and ligaments that an expert knows how to pinpoint. And once the target is acquired, no mercy is shown!!!!! Being stretched is NOT the the gentle muscle encouragement that I'd imagined - twist this way, pulling, pulling, bend here, and yank that leg over there!!!

YOWZA. OWIE.

I do love heat and stimulation, though. Electrical treatment didn't sound nice (they describe the sensation as "angry bees" or "ants marching"), but it's actually quite blissful. You crank up the voltage a leeeettle higher than is comfortable and settle back into the heating pad. You quickly become accustomed to the tiny shocks, and it modulates into a pleasant tingling. 15 minute of that and you're complacent and relaxed, ready to face the world again - or take a long nap.

Still, since I had to go through the torture and a bunch of strengthening exercises to get to the heat and stim ("back candy") I wasn't too sad to bid this round of PT adieu.

Until I realized that now, I will have to do stretching and strengthening without ending on a treat.

WAH.

Parking

should always be available at the hospital/clinic.

Especially on rainy days :(

The purpose of class

is learning, yes?

I think it's safe to say that, when students sit through your class without learning anything new, you are failing as a teacher.

I'm all for classroom discussion, but I am NOT paying thousands of dollars per class to hear about what my peers read on the WaPo/heard on NPR-TV-BLAWGS/were told by their mothers/saw in a fortune cookie!!!!!

Caution:

(Currently: full of woe, but not lentils)

Contents in the bowl you've microwaved for two minutes on high may be hot.

The sudden application of said heat to unsuspecting (why unsuspecting? Am not the McDonald's Lady. Should understand that hot things might be HOT) hand may cause inadvertent flinging ALL OVER TARNATION of said contents.

Thus transforming lentils from the from high-fiber, low-calorie, delicious (and cheap! Thank goodness.) food of champions to nasty little soggy buggers hiding in the furniture and mashed into the floor.

Reflections on biking

I'm glad, when I rode past the policeman, that he merely nodded and waved me on instead of arresting me, which my guilty conscience had been screaming would happen ever since I began illegally using the sideWALKS as my personal bike path. Now I can ride with a pure, police-sanctioned heart.

Bike seats hurt. I wonder how those who are less amply padded than me deal with it.

Coasting is fun. Except when you are continually worried that your last rusty brake will fail.

Shouting "passing on your left!" invariably makes people turn around and jump to the left. Sigh. One of these days that's gonna get ugly.

Helmets are not cute.

There's real satisfaction in locomoting yourself to work. Especially when others admire you for doing it!

New rule

No, it's not necessary to be informed every time a family member goes to the hospital for a checkup, appointment or even small emergency visit. However, I think that it's perfectly reasonable to expect notification when family members are hospitalized overnight. In fact, I go far as to make it a new family rule.

What am I going to do about it? Maybe nothing. I'll probably at least offer to fly home. But I want to know!!!

Okay??!!

OKAY.

Twice!

Just to make sure it wasn't a fluke, I waited until I made two full trips before declaring this mission accomplished and that I have emerged victorious!

I can ride my bike to work!!!

All hail me! I conquered my fear of riding on the road (by riding on the sidewalk) and hurling my myself through traffic (by walking my bike across the, hmmm, two intersections I need to cross). I had to switch to the lowest of my 5 (supposed to be 10, but the big gear sticks) gears to go up some of the hills, but that's a work in progress. Right now, I'm just happy that I can switch the gears (most of the time) on demand (the first time out riding circles in the parking lot I couldn't shift at all). People have been pretty entertained by my parking a bike in my office.

But.

I'm sad to report that I definitively live uphill from work. Which makes heading in not so bad, but riding home is just piling on work after work, which is kind of mean [shakes fist at...topography]!!!!

Unexpectedly pleasant

Visits home are undertaken out of obligation, guilt, and in response to crises or long absences. They aren't expected to be fun or interesting or relaxing. In fact, quite the opposite.

So when the first trip in forever appeared to be mildly restful and remarkably stress-free, I was suspicious, expecting the roof to fall in any moment. As the weekend (short as it was) unfolded, however, with pleasant discourse and somewhat a sense of camaraderie, zero recriminations and unbarbed exchanges of at least partially sincere compliments, I grew more comfortable. It was if we all made the silently unanimous decision not to recall past strife. Not to say there weren't minor annoyances (but, HA! my dithering inability to choose or decide are come by honestly, you see!) and irritations, but that's to be expected with the close-quarters juxtaposition of multiple grating personalities. It probably didn't hurt that the weather on the second day was absolutely perfect - the kind of New England weather that one could live and die for (79 degrees, blue-blue skies pouring forth cheerful sunshine dappled by wispy clouds, rollicky breezes that blow silkily across your cheek, stunningly humidity-free) and happily spend either outdoors puttering around (on the new riding lawnmower toy!) or indoors talking and napping.

Also, the taped opening ceremony of the Olympics was totally worth watching.

So, to sum up, much quality time was spent, and for now, we are all content.