So. (I say this every time because it's my way of pausing to organize my thoughts before you have to start reading them. Considering how they come out, aren't you glad you can't hear what I'm THINKING??)
So we all have that little list of things we're going to buy ourselves someday, right? It might not even be written down-- it might just be this wish list you keep in your head. Which is great, as far as it goes. But lately, I've been getting frustrated grunts from friends and family when things like my birthday or Christmas come near (Can I just tell you that my cat did an unintentional back flip off her favorite chair, and decided that meant it was a good time for a nibble at her food bowl? Nothing like the need to save face!)... err... what was I going off about?
Right. Wish lists.
My mom actually wants to give me something I'd like to get (she's actually been wanting this for a good two years now-- in fact, last Christmas, she got me three of everything, just in case I didn't like two of them. "Now, if you don't like it, this isn't your gift."), and my costar friend has realized that I might tell her one day that I really want the soundtrack to Legally Blond, but that by the following Thursday, it's about 35% likely that I've just gone ahead and gotten it for myself.
See, I have that list in my head like everyone else... it's just that "a solar-powered house" isn't easy to gift wrap. And all the little stuff- well, if I know I want it-- it's because I want it NOW. I've never been good at waiting like that. In fact, I used to pack for trips a good week or two before the family was going to leave, just so the clothes I wanted to bring would still be clean and stuff. And because I just couldn't WAIT that long with the "I want to bring THIS" sticky note yelling inside my head. Yeah. I literally wouldn't be able to sleep until I knew that everything I needed for the trip was ALREADY PACKED.
Luckily, the Army cured me of this. There we'd be, 3am, searching for THE OTHER PAIR OF SOCK CLIPS (these are like mini green bungee cords with metal hooks the size of your baby toenail on each end. You fasten them around the outside of your pants to get that regulation "folded-over" look down by your boots, and to cut off any remaining circulation to your feet. They were basically little elastic belts for your pant leg. The argmy is so weirdly vain!) so my then-husband could be all packed and regulation ready to go by 5am, having gotten the call at midnight that they WERE REALLY GOING at 5am on Friday instead of 3pm on Saturday like they'd promised. And, painful as it was (have I told you that I'm allergic to coffee?), it actually WAS good practice for when my then-husband did have to go to war in Iraq. They just didn't prepare him to find all his little gear-shit at the last minute WITHOUT ME. But that's another story.
Anyway, the point is that today I finally got online and started one of those online wish lists where you provide a link to the EXACT ITEM you want, and anybody who knows your name can go look it up. Yup. Just go visit (shudder) amazon.com and type in my name (my real one, with an i, not y, and two l's and two t's), and you can see the parts of my wish list that I've so far managed to quantify. I've even found the perfect lockable safe so that if my papers are ever threatened by a flood and a house fire at the same time, they'll survive. For an hour.
In the process, I found that it's actually quite difficult for me to quantify what I want. And that often, I'd find something similar to what I want... but not quite right. For instance. Do I wear a size 9, 10, or 11 in women's hiking socks? I have no idea. So I asked for one of each. Because you couldn't just select the socks, or the color of socks, that you wanted. This is not a casual day dream believer's list. This is serious stuff. This is accurate. This is exact. Good lord, did I remember to pack the hairdryer?! I've only got 3 months left to finish packing the list!! And I'm probably not going to get any sleep tonight, either. Sigh.
Well, at least I got the important stuff down. Like The Mummy Returns on DVD, and a new HDTV TV so I can own my own TV for once (because, of course, the one I am currently borrowing works perfectly fine, and therefore must be replaced), and a set of really REALLY useful metal shelves on casters so I can rearrange my own furniture. Yup. The important stuff.
Ya know, hard as I looked, I couldn't find an entry for world peace, and there wasn't one for clean air to breath, or unpolluted and unchlorinated water to drink... I'm too impatient to wait for someone else to buy me organic vegetables, so those didn't go on the list-- I get them every Saturday at my local Farmer's Market. But, man, the water sure would have been nice to add to the list. My cat pukes every time I forget to give her bottled water, and use the stuff from my kitchen tap. Yes. You heard me. My cat drinks bottled water. And, after discovering the REASON for all the puking (and falling in total love with the Green Machine I bought for the duration), I now drink bottled water, too. You can refill your old water jug for less than the price of a stamp down at the local grocer.
And that's another thing! Did you know the price of stamps is going up? AGAIN??
Another two cents. Mid May. The man in the iron mask told me the last time I went to visit him through the metal bars and ask for postage. If you thought 39 cents was odd, wait 'till you see 41 cents! Who's going to have change to get one of THOSE out of a vending machine?!
...Actually, he told the guy ahead of me in line, and then when it was my turn, I asked for some two cent stamps, since the price of postage was going up. The mail man behind the iron bars was so relieved to NOT have to tell me about it that he actually smiled. While inside his little "I might go postal, so don't ask why the bars are here" cage. Smiled. Wow. Maybe they could make it an even 50 cents, and make all the extra go to the public school system and the public libraries and other social services. That'd be nice. Maybe pigs fly. They make their own beds, you know. Honest. The pigs, that is. I wouldn't bet on the postal workers.
And what have I learned from all this? Well, just now I learned that "wishlist" is two words. That's important. I also learned that the most important things aren't always easy to find. They have to be created by the cooperative efforts of a whole lot of people. So they aren't easy to quantify, either. I also learned that I could probably add to the "I want that" list for a very very long time. It makes me feel all materialistic and selfish. It also made me realize that I no longer own a sleeping bag. Hmm. And come to think of it... I haven't felt the lack, either. I wonder what else around here I could go around NOT LACKING for the next few years...
So why, you ask, does he think he's a gift? Well... if you've ever met that guy who thinks you really should fall in love with him and be happy to go make out in the back of his car-- just by looking at him-- then you've met that guy who thinks he's a gift. What does this have to do with the post? Absolutely nothing. Thank goodness.
I tell you, I am SO not ready to date yet!
(But don't worry folks-- I'm happy, hearty, and whole. All I need in my life... is more bookshelves. And maybe a DVD of The Mummy Returns. I went out and ordered the soundtrack for Legally Blonde yesterday. It was part of my new years resolution, so I sorta felt justified on that one. After all. I've waited four months.)
Tuesday, April 24
Sunday, April 22
Blink Blink
Okay, so the title is cool, but the entry here is actually about Blog Links I love and follow. They're a weird assortment. You might not like and follow them with me. But at least you'll know what I'm talking about if they come up. I love keeping people informed that way.
Absolute Favorite:
Crazy Aunt Purl. See, this young 30's-ish woman and her three cats are learning to be adults, and she's from the south but she lives in CA, she's hilarious, and she grew an onion in her kitchen by mistake. It's name is Victor. Oh, and sometimes she knits.
The Other Official Blogs:
This Fish Needs a Bicycle. Wherein someone about my age and single deals with her life, and uses a dry sense of humor and a red hot poker to do it. Oh, and she just moved from NY to Texas with her cat, and had a wisdom tooth out. Graphically. But don't worry, folks-- she's a professional!
Dooce. Wherein a really not-quite-right-in-the-head woman lives with her husband and young daughter (who once stared straight at the conservative grandfather over dinner and yelled "SHIGT" at the top of her lungs for no apparent reason, and then went back to dinner while everyone else recovered) and says totally irreverent things about her life choices and life experiences.
Feel-Good Librarian. Wherein a reference desk librarian occasionally shares the experiences that make her world turn, to our great delight. Like when her coworker was asked to locate a photo of God for a young boy, or when she painted her fingernails cool colors to help her through a cancer surgery, and the nurses all practiced little acts of kindness that also made a big difference, thus reminding her how important good customer service can be.
A Librarian's Guide to Etiquette. Wherein a librarian unleashes his pithy observations in short, infrequent, and well-catalogued entries. My favorite to date was the one about getting caught playing Justin Timberlake music on your computer at work. See "Sexy Back, Bringing."
My Friends Have Blogs Too:
The Randomness That is Life. Shana likes NIN, her dog, and cooking. In that order. She's my costar in a really freaky sitcom comedy wherein they tape our lives, and then broadcast little bits of them so other people can laugh at the insanity. We've been trying to find the cameras for years, and we'd really like to see the editor about the script.
Pens and Needles. Wherein I led a really young old lady down the garden path of blogs, but she's walking slowly, so there are only a few great entries so far, but the list is growing, and she's a really great artist, too. And her cats like you.
There are other blogs, and I have other friends, but I really should be working on one of those five projects just about now for school... so I bid you adieu.
And by the way, if you haven't watched the Mummy movie series, you're missing out on some great corny action with a hot babe, a hot dude, a couple of really comedic idiots, and some gross mummies wandering about terrorizing things, only with no blood and very little gore. I just got the Mummy Returns from Netflix, and I've only procrastinated a LITTLE bit to watch it. =) But don't believe what they tell you about the Scorpion King. His story is really quite different. Those silly Bembridge Scholars! Always getting stories mixed up and all that rot. Hmmm... I hear a fresh bowl of popcorn calling my name...
Can you believe it? The spellchecker says I got the "hmmm" wrong. Oh, and can I just tell you how sad I think it is (in a silly smirky kind of way) that my entry about strawberries and dockers pants was somehow shorter than my entry about other peoples' entries?! Well, at least there's always the flaming pizza box to keep me amused. Sigh.
Absolute Favorite:
Crazy Aunt Purl. See, this young 30's-ish woman and her three cats are learning to be adults, and she's from the south but she lives in CA, she's hilarious, and she grew an onion in her kitchen by mistake. It's name is Victor. Oh, and sometimes she knits.
The Other Official Blogs:
This Fish Needs a Bicycle. Wherein someone about my age and single deals with her life, and uses a dry sense of humor and a red hot poker to do it. Oh, and she just moved from NY to Texas with her cat, and had a wisdom tooth out. Graphically. But don't worry, folks-- she's a professional!
Dooce. Wherein a really not-quite-right-in-the-head woman lives with her husband and young daughter (who once stared straight at the conservative grandfather over dinner and yelled "SHIGT" at the top of her lungs for no apparent reason, and then went back to dinner while everyone else recovered) and says totally irreverent things about her life choices and life experiences.
Feel-Good Librarian. Wherein a reference desk librarian occasionally shares the experiences that make her world turn, to our great delight. Like when her coworker was asked to locate a photo of God for a young boy, or when she painted her fingernails cool colors to help her through a cancer surgery, and the nurses all practiced little acts of kindness that also made a big difference, thus reminding her how important good customer service can be.
A Librarian's Guide to Etiquette. Wherein a librarian unleashes his pithy observations in short, infrequent, and well-catalogued entries. My favorite to date was the one about getting caught playing Justin Timberlake music on your computer at work. See "Sexy Back, Bringing."
My Friends Have Blogs Too:
The Randomness That is Life. Shana likes NIN, her dog, and cooking. In that order. She's my costar in a really freaky sitcom comedy wherein they tape our lives, and then broadcast little bits of them so other people can laugh at the insanity. We've been trying to find the cameras for years, and we'd really like to see the editor about the script.
Pens and Needles. Wherein I led a really young old lady down the garden path of blogs, but she's walking slowly, so there are only a few great entries so far, but the list is growing, and she's a really great artist, too. And her cats like you.
There are other blogs, and I have other friends, but I really should be working on one of those five projects just about now for school... so I bid you adieu.
And by the way, if you haven't watched the Mummy movie series, you're missing out on some great corny action with a hot babe, a hot dude, a couple of really comedic idiots, and some gross mummies wandering about terrorizing things, only with no blood and very little gore. I just got the Mummy Returns from Netflix, and I've only procrastinated a LITTLE bit to watch it. =) But don't believe what they tell you about the Scorpion King. His story is really quite different. Those silly Bembridge Scholars! Always getting stories mixed up and all that rot. Hmmm... I hear a fresh bowl of popcorn calling my name...
Can you believe it? The spellchecker says I got the "hmmm" wrong. Oh, and can I just tell you how sad I think it is (in a silly smirky kind of way) that my entry about strawberries and dockers pants was somehow shorter than my entry about other peoples' entries?! Well, at least there's always the flaming pizza box to keep me amused. Sigh.
Friday, April 20
Getting Fresh
Can I just tell you how MUCH I love fresh strawberries? With Nutella? And Farmer's Markets. Those rock too. Big rocks. This week, at the Farmer's Market, I found a guy who makes fresh pesto-- in five awesome varieties. Fresh pesto. And strawberries. But not together, please.
I also want to share with you the fact that I am now the proud owner of two identical pairs of khaki pants, appropriate for a professional work environment. Why two? Because it's the first time ... EVER... that I have found professional-looking machine washable khaki pants that don't gape at the back of the waist, don't have really big poofy pleats that make me look pregnant or REALLY CONSTIPATED, and don't need to be hemmed by about 8 inches so I can walk. And they were on sale for about $16 each. So I bought both pairs. I feel that the universe loves me.
So, dude, if you hear me complaining about ANYTHING in the next week or two? Just remind me that I found fresh strawberries, home made pesto, and machine-washable khaki pants ALL IN THE SAME WEEK, and I have nothing to complain about. Nothing.
Not even the fact that my semester ends in less than two weeks, and I have five-- count FIVE-- final projects of various sorts to complete in that time frame. Yes. And I'm going to be eating strawberries with Nutella while I do it.
I also want to share with you the fact that I am now the proud owner of two identical pairs of khaki pants, appropriate for a professional work environment. Why two? Because it's the first time ... EVER... that I have found professional-looking machine washable khaki pants that don't gape at the back of the waist, don't have really big poofy pleats that make me look pregnant or REALLY CONSTIPATED, and don't need to be hemmed by about 8 inches so I can walk. And they were on sale for about $16 each. So I bought both pairs. I feel that the universe loves me.
So, dude, if you hear me complaining about ANYTHING in the next week or two? Just remind me that I found fresh strawberries, home made pesto, and machine-washable khaki pants ALL IN THE SAME WEEK, and I have nothing to complain about. Nothing.
Not even the fact that my semester ends in less than two weeks, and I have five-- count FIVE-- final projects of various sorts to complete in that time frame. Yes. And I'm going to be eating strawberries with Nutella while I do it.
Sunday, April 15
On Smoke Alarms
Okay. They are a requirement for buying or selling a home in some states. They are supposed to keep us safe and alert us if there IS a fire in our home, with enough time to get ourselves out safely. They are usually round, and attached to an ugly hole in the ceiling, usually one for each room or area of the home. They require batteries, they have little lights that stay on at all times, and when they go off, they are REALLY LOUD. They are called Smoke Alarms.
When I was very little, we had a smoke alarm in the the 2 foot square "hallway" between bedroom and bathroom doors in my house. It was around a corner from the kitchen. And without fail, every time mom tried to bake or broil a chicken, the fire alarm went off. Loudly. Before the chicken was done cooking. And my dad would haul out the step ladder, do a lot of swearing, and pull the batteries out of the fire alarm because THERE WAS NO FIRE. There wasn't even any smoke.
When I was in high school, my mom came into my room one night. She was really worried that I somehow had a candle burning in my bedroom. I was dead asleep, and had never even considered that it would be okay to light one of the candles in my bedroom-- let alone leave it lit after I went to sleep for the night. Of course, as I WAS asleep, it took a while for the question to percolate. The conversation (in my vague memory) went like this:
shake shake
Mom, frantic: DO YOU HAVE A CANDLE BURNING??
Me: ...huh?
Mom, still frantic: DO YOU HAVE A CANDLE BURNING??
Me: ...yeah- I think there's a candle on the dresser...
Mom goes to check it, and I go back to sleep. Of course, I've never burned a candle in my bedroom, so what she found was an unlit candle.
shake shake... shake shake shake
Mom, very worried now: Honey, DO YOU HAVE A CANDLE BURNING??
Me: ...what?
Mom, getting louder, still shaking me: DO YOU HAVE A CANDLE BURNING??
Me: What candle?
Mom, full volume, agonized: DO-YOU-HAVE-A-LIT-CANDLE-BURNING-IN-YOUR-ROOM??
Me: NO!
I roll over grumbling about dumb questions and go back to sleep, mom leaves.
The next morning, I was informed that they'd found the source of the fire alarm. Fire alarm? Yeah. It was apparently going off in the background of our middle-of-the-night conversation-- and for a few minutes before and after, as well. The source? A yogurt lid had fallen out of the dishwasher rack and onto the element, where it melted into a funny shape, and let off some sort of chemical gas that could not be seen, but did set off the fire alarm quite efficiently. There was no fire.
Later, when I'd gotten married and bought a home of my own (well, a home of my husband's own), we had a wood stove. One night when he was off on a practice deployment, I'd had myself a nice fire in our old and slightly misshapen wood stove, and since the wood coals in it were still smoking when I went to bed, I left the flu open. So the smoke from the fire could continue to go out of the house via the chimney, as usual.
I woke up around 3am needing to pee, looked around, and the whole house (my bedroom was at the very back far end of the house from the wood stove) was blue with smoke-- inside. The air was chokingly thick with it. The cat and dog were still sleeping, drugged with the smoke just like I was. I crawled to a window, opened it, and took a few breaths until I could figure out what was going on. Then I panicked. THERE WAS A FIRE IN THE HOUSE SOMEWHERE!! THERE WAS A TON OF SMOKE IN HERE!! WHY DIDN'T THE SMOKE ALARM GO OFF???
Well, no. Technically, the fire was still in the wood stove. But the fast-falling cold temperatures that night had forced all the barely-warm smoke back down the chimney, and pumped it out one of the weird holes in the back of the stove, into the house, where it had been collecting and swirling for ... about five hours... undetected by the smoke/fire alarms in every room of the house, until I believe I was fairly close to being asphyxiated by it. You could barely see through all the blue-grey smokey air in the house by the time I woke up-- and I didn't wake because I smelled smoke. There was a fire, and a dangerous level of smoke in the house... and there WAS NO SMOKE ALARM. NO FIRE ALARM. NO.
This is not to say that I think an alarm that lets you know when there is a dangerous level of smoke in the house is a bad idea. On the contrary-- I think it's a great idea. I've just never owned one. Instead, I've had a chicken alarm, a plastics alarm, and a spring roll alarm. Yay. My friend, Shana, tells me it's all a racket to get us to buy 9Volt batteries (size E)... which are not good for any other purpose that we've found, besides replacing them once or twice a year in every 'smoke' alarm in every room of every house. Hey. Free Money. No advertising needed. Most people I know will do ANYTHING to stop the frantically repeated beeep beeep beeep of a smoke alarm with a low battery in it. Including spend a lot of money on a 9V battery. Hmm...
I should create a safety appliance that every household will require, and patent the energy source for it! I'd be rich in no time. It's probably even more effective than buying lottery tickets!
Last night, I got home late from an event that was supposed to include dinner. It was a fun event, but half a helping of caesar salad does not a dinner make. So I rummaged in the freezer, and pulled out some pre-cooked frozen spring rolls. I think parts of it were even organic to make me feel better about not cooking. Bake them at 450 for 15 minutes, and you have a meal with veggies, and meat. I could handle that. It was almost 11pm. I was starved. Right up until the smoke alarm started to go off. There were five minutes to go on the spring rolls, and the bubbling oil in the oven was apparently too much for the smoke alarm's delicate system. Which has withstood over five candles simultaneously burning in the same room as the smoke alarm, multiple times.
So I got to wake up all the neighbors, deposit my not-quite-cooked spring rolls on the front porch, open the whole place up for air circulation, and scare the shigt out of the cat. Luckily, the alarm was pacified after only about five minutes. At 11pm at night. People came to their doors to ask if all was well-- which I appreciate-- and so I yelled at about the same decibel level as the alarm that all was well, and I was sorry to disturb. Then I brought my cold not-quite-cooked spring rolls back into the house, closed the doors and left the windows carefully open for a bit longer, and started looking around for hidden cameras. Somebody has to be filming this stuff. It's just too ridiculous to be happening in real life.
And, as another Catachresis blogging first... I'm giving you homework.
Yes. YOU.
Please write into the comments your own experiences with the smoke/fire alarms in your lifetime. I'll bet you know of some real winners, too. And just maybe, someone will be able to give me a VALID reason for those silly little round food-alarms in our every home. Please?
When I was very little, we had a smoke alarm in the the 2 foot square "hallway" between bedroom and bathroom doors in my house. It was around a corner from the kitchen. And without fail, every time mom tried to bake or broil a chicken, the fire alarm went off. Loudly. Before the chicken was done cooking. And my dad would haul out the step ladder, do a lot of swearing, and pull the batteries out of the fire alarm because THERE WAS NO FIRE. There wasn't even any smoke.
When I was in high school, my mom came into my room one night. She was really worried that I somehow had a candle burning in my bedroom. I was dead asleep, and had never even considered that it would be okay to light one of the candles in my bedroom-- let alone leave it lit after I went to sleep for the night. Of course, as I WAS asleep, it took a while for the question to percolate. The conversation (in my vague memory) went like this:
shake shake
Mom, frantic: DO YOU HAVE A CANDLE BURNING??
Me: ...huh?
Mom, still frantic: DO YOU HAVE A CANDLE BURNING??
Me: ...yeah- I think there's a candle on the dresser...
Mom goes to check it, and I go back to sleep. Of course, I've never burned a candle in my bedroom, so what she found was an unlit candle.
shake shake... shake shake shake
Mom, very worried now: Honey, DO YOU HAVE A CANDLE BURNING??
Me: ...what?
Mom, getting louder, still shaking me: DO YOU HAVE A CANDLE BURNING??
Me: What candle?
Mom, full volume, agonized: DO-YOU-HAVE-A-LIT-CANDLE-BURNING-IN-YOUR-ROOM??
Me: NO!
I roll over grumbling about dumb questions and go back to sleep, mom leaves.
The next morning, I was informed that they'd found the source of the fire alarm. Fire alarm? Yeah. It was apparently going off in the background of our middle-of-the-night conversation-- and for a few minutes before and after, as well. The source? A yogurt lid had fallen out of the dishwasher rack and onto the element, where it melted into a funny shape, and let off some sort of chemical gas that could not be seen, but did set off the fire alarm quite efficiently. There was no fire.
Later, when I'd gotten married and bought a home of my own (well, a home of my husband's own), we had a wood stove. One night when he was off on a practice deployment, I'd had myself a nice fire in our old and slightly misshapen wood stove, and since the wood coals in it were still smoking when I went to bed, I left the flu open. So the smoke from the fire could continue to go out of the house via the chimney, as usual.
I woke up around 3am needing to pee, looked around, and the whole house (my bedroom was at the very back far end of the house from the wood stove) was blue with smoke-- inside. The air was chokingly thick with it. The cat and dog were still sleeping, drugged with the smoke just like I was. I crawled to a window, opened it, and took a few breaths until I could figure out what was going on. Then I panicked. THERE WAS A FIRE IN THE HOUSE SOMEWHERE!! THERE WAS A TON OF SMOKE IN HERE!! WHY DIDN'T THE SMOKE ALARM GO OFF???
Well, no. Technically, the fire was still in the wood stove. But the fast-falling cold temperatures that night had forced all the barely-warm smoke back down the chimney, and pumped it out one of the weird holes in the back of the stove, into the house, where it had been collecting and swirling for ... about five hours... undetected by the smoke/fire alarms in every room of the house, until I believe I was fairly close to being asphyxiated by it. You could barely see through all the blue-grey smokey air in the house by the time I woke up-- and I didn't wake because I smelled smoke. There was a fire, and a dangerous level of smoke in the house... and there WAS NO SMOKE ALARM. NO FIRE ALARM. NO.
This is not to say that I think an alarm that lets you know when there is a dangerous level of smoke in the house is a bad idea. On the contrary-- I think it's a great idea. I've just never owned one. Instead, I've had a chicken alarm, a plastics alarm, and a spring roll alarm. Yay. My friend, Shana, tells me it's all a racket to get us to buy 9Volt batteries (size E)... which are not good for any other purpose that we've found, besides replacing them once or twice a year in every 'smoke' alarm in every room of every house. Hey. Free Money. No advertising needed. Most people I know will do ANYTHING to stop the frantically repeated beeep beeep beeep of a smoke alarm with a low battery in it. Including spend a lot of money on a 9V battery. Hmm...
I should create a safety appliance that every household will require, and patent the energy source for it! I'd be rich in no time. It's probably even more effective than buying lottery tickets!
Last night, I got home late from an event that was supposed to include dinner. It was a fun event, but half a helping of caesar salad does not a dinner make. So I rummaged in the freezer, and pulled out some pre-cooked frozen spring rolls. I think parts of it were even organic to make me feel better about not cooking. Bake them at 450 for 15 minutes, and you have a meal with veggies, and meat. I could handle that. It was almost 11pm. I was starved. Right up until the smoke alarm started to go off. There were five minutes to go on the spring rolls, and the bubbling oil in the oven was apparently too much for the smoke alarm's delicate system. Which has withstood over five candles simultaneously burning in the same room as the smoke alarm, multiple times.
So I got to wake up all the neighbors, deposit my not-quite-cooked spring rolls on the front porch, open the whole place up for air circulation, and scare the shigt out of the cat. Luckily, the alarm was pacified after only about five minutes. At 11pm at night. People came to their doors to ask if all was well-- which I appreciate-- and so I yelled at about the same decibel level as the alarm that all was well, and I was sorry to disturb. Then I brought my cold not-quite-cooked spring rolls back into the house, closed the doors and left the windows carefully open for a bit longer, and started looking around for hidden cameras. Somebody has to be filming this stuff. It's just too ridiculous to be happening in real life.
And, as another Catachresis blogging first... I'm giving you homework.
Yes. YOU.
Please write into the comments your own experiences with the smoke/fire alarms in your lifetime. I'll bet you know of some real winners, too. And just maybe, someone will be able to give me a VALID reason for those silly little round food-alarms in our every home. Please?
Thursday, April 12
Lost and Found
I was thinking recently about some of the situations the people I care about have lived through or are living through. I was thinking about lost time, lost perspective, lost income, lost friends, lost lives. And then I started thinking about what I have lived through. And about how happy I am with my life.
I lost my apartment and many of my household goods. I found that it was a great opportunity to start fresh, and not carry old associations into my new life.
I lost my marriage and my free health care. I found that I don't need all the doctor visits I'd been making... and I found myself. Free. Self-Sufficient. Reliable (though often a bit late-- it's the Leo in me). Resilient. Content with now.
I lost my husband's income and later my job. I found a better job. I also found that I alone on a small income don't carry nearly as much debt as we did together with a much bigger income, and I'm not juggling funds to make ends meet anymore either. I found that I know how to balance a budget, and how to go without cable TV and dinner out every week.
I lost my support network when I moved to a new state. I found that my support network was a lot bigger than I'd realized, and that the people who love and support you will ALWAYS love and support you-- and the people who are there for what you give them... I found that I don't miss giving myself away to selfish people. I found my own value and my own will to succeed.
I spent a lot of time worrying, and whining and complaining and analyzing all that had happened or might happen IF... But once I started trusting myself and my abilities-- and my decisions-- I realized that I am really grateful for the life I have. I have a way to support myself-- and even if I'm using the credit card to pay for my gas right now, I won't always. I have good friends who support me (and put themselves in danger to help me get out of hell)-- and who let me support them in return. I have organic food in my fridge. I have my life, my cat, and my netfix subscription to get me through until I can afford cable and dating again (time-wise, emotions-wise, AND money-wise). I have a clean little 2-room apartment with things in it that I love and that I CHOOSE TO HAVE in my space, and a sunny back patio where my geranium seeds and basil seeds and heavenly bamboo plant all thrive. (The ants are even leaving my pumpkin sprouts alone for the moment!) I have my grandmother's dining table. I have the desk my dad made for me in college. I have the creaky oak desk chair from my childhood. I have my parents' old bed frame. I have a washer and dryer, a mailing address, and a lock on the front door.
I may not have money in the bank or real chairs in my apartment for guests, but I am surrounded by love and growth and beauty. I'd take this life over any other I've lived any day of the week. And I know that if I hadn't lived through all those other times, I wouldn't be able to appreciate everything good that I have now. I just wouldn't see it, because I'd be looking for the cushy new sofa and the matching bedroom set and the big back yard and the happily-ever-after marriage. And those aren't real. What I have is real, and joyful, and I have it because I made it so.
I look at the situations that the people I care about are dealing with, and I know they are carrying burdens. I know life can be tough, and some of them are dealing with tough times. I know that I needed to talk and process to get through those hard times in my own life, and so I want to be here and be listening for them. But I also know that if their perspective doesn't broaden to include the abundance that IS in their lives, they will never find happiness. They will always be burdened by the challenges they face, and will never get to celebrate the gifts they already have-- the ones they brought into their own lives through their own efforts. The people, the pets, the safe and comfortable homes that they surround themselves with. The skills they have. The goals they set and that they will meet. The goals they've already reached.
I find myself wanting to reach through the phone and shake them. CELEBRATE, DAMMIT! But I know that right now, many of them just can't see the reasons to do so. And I know I wouldn't want their challenges for myself. I guess the difference is that I believe I can create the life I want for myself. If I will positive change, and focus my energy on what I'm working toward. If I take the right steps and put can-do energy into the world-- I know that is what I'll get back.
Bad things do happen to good people-- and it is not that good person's fault if they bump into a mass murderer on a tear or something. But I can say about my life that the big bad things I've overcome all had great lessons to them. I never want to live through them again-- and I don't wish those or any other bad times on anyone-- but I wouldn't be as full and great a human being now if I hadn't had those very experiences. If you could hear what goes on in my mind when I realize I've got a BIG REASON to complain-- it would sound a bit like this:
"Oh, hegll. This sucks. Great. Another reason to grow. Well, what can I learn from THIS one? What might be going on to make that person do that? Can I think of anything that could possibly put me in their shoes one day? ...Well, I guess I can have a bit of compassion. (or-- Nope. I'm so glad I will never be like this person!) Man, personal growth is exhausting. I'd better plan some down time into my week. Okay. You know, this is actually a good thing in some ways, because ...." And suddenly, it's not all bad. Of course, sometimes this process takes 2 minutes, and sometimes it takes 2 months. Depends on the situation. And on how fast I can grow to encompass the lessons I take from it. Growth itself is definitely not predictable. And, in the meantime, my friends will definitely be getting that call from me where all I want to do is process and whine.
Yeah, I do that. But inside... inside I know my life is full of reasons to celebrate, and abundance is everywhere, if only I choose to look. I've experienced a lot of loss in my life-- but I've found so much more because of it. Things WILL improve. I will make it so.
And by the way, I find it very strange that the spell-check on the blog postings editor does not recognize the word "okay" in it's proper grammatical spelling. It gets a red highlight every time. Weird. Did the computer geeks who make the latest programs NOT KNOW that ok is an abbreviation?? Well... I guess I can see how that would be so. I'm certainly reliant on the spell-check feature as it is. I guess it's a good thing that the one word it doesn't know is one I don't actually have any questions about!
I lost my apartment and many of my household goods. I found that it was a great opportunity to start fresh, and not carry old associations into my new life.
I lost my marriage and my free health care. I found that I don't need all the doctor visits I'd been making... and I found myself. Free. Self-Sufficient. Reliable (though often a bit late-- it's the Leo in me). Resilient. Content with now.
I lost my husband's income and later my job. I found a better job. I also found that I alone on a small income don't carry nearly as much debt as we did together with a much bigger income, and I'm not juggling funds to make ends meet anymore either. I found that I know how to balance a budget, and how to go without cable TV and dinner out every week.
I lost my support network when I moved to a new state. I found that my support network was a lot bigger than I'd realized, and that the people who love and support you will ALWAYS love and support you-- and the people who are there for what you give them... I found that I don't miss giving myself away to selfish people. I found my own value and my own will to succeed.
I spent a lot of time worrying, and whining and complaining and analyzing all that had happened or might happen IF... But once I started trusting myself and my abilities-- and my decisions-- I realized that I am really grateful for the life I have. I have a way to support myself-- and even if I'm using the credit card to pay for my gas right now, I won't always. I have good friends who support me (and put themselves in danger to help me get out of hell)-- and who let me support them in return. I have organic food in my fridge. I have my life, my cat, and my netfix subscription to get me through until I can afford cable and dating again (time-wise, emotions-wise, AND money-wise). I have a clean little 2-room apartment with things in it that I love and that I CHOOSE TO HAVE in my space, and a sunny back patio where my geranium seeds and basil seeds and heavenly bamboo plant all thrive. (The ants are even leaving my pumpkin sprouts alone for the moment!) I have my grandmother's dining table. I have the desk my dad made for me in college. I have the creaky oak desk chair from my childhood. I have my parents' old bed frame. I have a washer and dryer, a mailing address, and a lock on the front door.
I may not have money in the bank or real chairs in my apartment for guests, but I am surrounded by love and growth and beauty. I'd take this life over any other I've lived any day of the week. And I know that if I hadn't lived through all those other times, I wouldn't be able to appreciate everything good that I have now. I just wouldn't see it, because I'd be looking for the cushy new sofa and the matching bedroom set and the big back yard and the happily-ever-after marriage. And those aren't real. What I have is real, and joyful, and I have it because I made it so.
I look at the situations that the people I care about are dealing with, and I know they are carrying burdens. I know life can be tough, and some of them are dealing with tough times. I know that I needed to talk and process to get through those hard times in my own life, and so I want to be here and be listening for them. But I also know that if their perspective doesn't broaden to include the abundance that IS in their lives, they will never find happiness. They will always be burdened by the challenges they face, and will never get to celebrate the gifts they already have-- the ones they brought into their own lives through their own efforts. The people, the pets, the safe and comfortable homes that they surround themselves with. The skills they have. The goals they set and that they will meet. The goals they've already reached.
I find myself wanting to reach through the phone and shake them. CELEBRATE, DAMMIT! But I know that right now, many of them just can't see the reasons to do so. And I know I wouldn't want their challenges for myself. I guess the difference is that I believe I can create the life I want for myself. If I will positive change, and focus my energy on what I'm working toward. If I take the right steps and put can-do energy into the world-- I know that is what I'll get back.
Bad things do happen to good people-- and it is not that good person's fault if they bump into a mass murderer on a tear or something. But I can say about my life that the big bad things I've overcome all had great lessons to them. I never want to live through them again-- and I don't wish those or any other bad times on anyone-- but I wouldn't be as full and great a human being now if I hadn't had those very experiences. If you could hear what goes on in my mind when I realize I've got a BIG REASON to complain-- it would sound a bit like this:
"Oh, hegll. This sucks. Great. Another reason to grow. Well, what can I learn from THIS one? What might be going on to make that person do that? Can I think of anything that could possibly put me in their shoes one day? ...Well, I guess I can have a bit of compassion. (or-- Nope. I'm so glad I will never be like this person!) Man, personal growth is exhausting. I'd better plan some down time into my week. Okay. You know, this is actually a good thing in some ways, because ...." And suddenly, it's not all bad. Of course, sometimes this process takes 2 minutes, and sometimes it takes 2 months. Depends on the situation. And on how fast I can grow to encompass the lessons I take from it. Growth itself is definitely not predictable. And, in the meantime, my friends will definitely be getting that call from me where all I want to do is process and whine.
Yeah, I do that. But inside... inside I know my life is full of reasons to celebrate, and abundance is everywhere, if only I choose to look. I've experienced a lot of loss in my life-- but I've found so much more because of it. Things WILL improve. I will make it so.
And by the way, I find it very strange that the spell-check on the blog postings editor does not recognize the word "okay" in it's proper grammatical spelling. It gets a red highlight every time. Weird. Did the computer geeks who make the latest programs NOT KNOW that ok is an abbreviation?? Well... I guess I can see how that would be so. I'm certainly reliant on the spell-check feature as it is. I guess it's a good thing that the one word it doesn't know is one I don't actually have any questions about!
Saturday, April 7
edu.com
So as many of you know, I am going to school ONLINE. I am totally insane. But we already knew that...
Going to school online consists of remembering to get online and login to the student blackboard program, and check in with my various classes in their online environments. Each professor has listed the information for upcoming assignments, each week's readings and projects, etc in a TOTALLY DIFFERENT PART of their class webpages. Then I have to do the readings-- most of them are online, and since I won't be reading them more than once, I don't print them out. Saves resources and time.
Then I have a "discussion" to participate in for each class. Sometimes more than one discussion, for each week of class, for each class I'm taking, for the semester. I had one class with an average of three discussions each week. They take longer than the readings. Really. To "participate," one must access the given discussion webpage, and immediately create one's own email-o-input about the topic, without reading what anyone else wrote. This is to prove you've done the reading, and thought about it.
Then, you have to open each email-o-input from each other student in the class, and open any attached emails-o-comments from students ON that input... and somewhere in there, you have to give your own emails-o-comments on other students' input. A minimum of two pithy continuations of the conversation is required to count as "participating in discussion"... for each discussion, times the number of discussions you have to participate in each week. This is the process. It's painful. And somehow, it almost-but-not-quite totally does NOT resemble a classroom discussion. And spell-checking. Lets not forget we're trying to appear professional at all times, here. Spell-check everything you submit before you submit it. Everything.
So really, it's not a single discussion in which everyone participates... it's as many discussions as you have classmates, with long pauses to open and close each email in the discussion, so you can read it. And you have to check back later in the week to see if anyone has responded to your input or commentary. Only then can it be an actual give-take discussion. OH- and the professors pretty much never participate in the discussion. Nope. They just sit there and make little participation check-marks in their big black grading books. Oh joy.
You don't do an online program to save time. You do it so that you can determine when you spend all that time. And so that you can live and work uninterruptedly while getting your education. But it's totally up to you to remember to check all the right places. It isn't like you get reminders from your prof and classmates on major upcoming assignments just by keeping your ears open in class. There is no class. Classless.
Okay. Wild Kitty. On a Tear. Must Run.
Going to school online consists of remembering to get online and login to the student blackboard program, and check in with my various classes in their online environments. Each professor has listed the information for upcoming assignments, each week's readings and projects, etc in a TOTALLY DIFFERENT PART of their class webpages. Then I have to do the readings-- most of them are online, and since I won't be reading them more than once, I don't print them out. Saves resources and time.
Then I have a "discussion" to participate in for each class. Sometimes more than one discussion, for each week of class, for each class I'm taking, for the semester. I had one class with an average of three discussions each week. They take longer than the readings. Really. To "participate," one must access the given discussion webpage, and immediately create one's own email-o-input about the topic, without reading what anyone else wrote. This is to prove you've done the reading, and thought about it.
Then, you have to open each email-o-input from each other student in the class, and open any attached emails-o-comments from students ON that input... and somewhere in there, you have to give your own emails-o-comments on other students' input. A minimum of two pithy continuations of the conversation is required to count as "participating in discussion"... for each discussion, times the number of discussions you have to participate in each week. This is the process. It's painful. And somehow, it almost-but-not-quite totally does NOT resemble a classroom discussion. And spell-checking. Lets not forget we're trying to appear professional at all times, here. Spell-check everything you submit before you submit it. Everything.
So really, it's not a single discussion in which everyone participates... it's as many discussions as you have classmates, with long pauses to open and close each email in the discussion, so you can read it. And you have to check back later in the week to see if anyone has responded to your input or commentary. Only then can it be an actual give-take discussion. OH- and the professors pretty much never participate in the discussion. Nope. They just sit there and make little participation check-marks in their big black grading books. Oh joy.
You don't do an online program to save time. You do it so that you can determine when you spend all that time. And so that you can live and work uninterruptedly while getting your education. But it's totally up to you to remember to check all the right places. It isn't like you get reminders from your prof and classmates on major upcoming assignments just by keeping your ears open in class. There is no class. Classless.
Okay. Wild Kitty. On a Tear. Must Run.
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