Friday Working De-tox

One thing I won't miss about working in Boston (yes, I am going there, yes I am, with seven more weeks of it) is the way people walk around the city.

Granted, some people are tourists*, by which I mean anyone who doesn't usually come in to the city, whether they live within range of the T, or on another continent. The variety of languages spoken around the Back Bay has been eye-opening!

*I used to be a tourist, and I will be again. A considerate tourist.

Tourists don't always know where they're going or how to get there, they're often not in a hurry, they stop when something catches their eye or to look at a map. It's understandable behavior, but the unpredictability can be a bit annoying when you are just trying to get from point A to point B as quickly as possible. Excuse me, random person who just stopped with no warning directly in front of me, I'm trying to get to work.

But the really annoying ones aren't generally tourists. They're office workers, students, residents. They're also, unfortunately, Oblivious. (Not all of them, and not all the time, but often enough.)

Oblivious People don't always walk in a straight line. If they're coming toward you, they almost walk into you while looking in any direction but forward.

If they're walking the same way, in front of you, and you're walking faster so you start to walk past them, they're suddenly in your path again, so you almost walk into them.

They walk out of a store and across the sidewalk without even looking to see if anyone is there.

Oblivious People will walk in front of you at an intersection even though their direction has car traffic and has to wait, while in your direction pedestrians can cross.

A group of Oblivious People will walk three across on a sidewalk wide enough for three, and not make room for those coming the other way (let alone those behind them who might wish to pass).

They're not just outside, of course. Inside, Oblivious People stand directly in front of the elevator waiting to get on (and are So Surprised to find they're blocking people from getting off; who could have foreseen that?).

Oblivious People walk up the stairs in the subway, at rush hour, swinging their arms so they nearly hit the person walking behind them (this happens far more than I would have predicted; funny what you learn).

An Oblivious Person will step out of a revolving door and stand there, right in front of it, rummaging through her bag. Or stop right before getting into the revolving door. Or in the middle of a hallway. It's like they're playing a game: how many people can I block, by stopping here? What about here?

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I've spent the last week at work on a mammoth project, which had me pulling my hair more than once, and I handed it over with a strange mix of relief and regret. There was no way I could do a thorough job in the time allotted, and I hate not to do a thorough job. On the other hand, it's better than it was before it got to me, which will have to be enough. (And that's probably as much as "they" expect, but I strive for more.)

I first heard about this project mid-last week, when the catalog manager sent an e-mail to me and to BR (the other woman in the group who does some proofreading), letting us know that it would be coming our way by that Friday, and that we would both need to go through it before giving it back the following Friday (that's today).

Oh, and it's 600+ pages.

Hmmm. I think I'm going to need a bigger desk.

Mid-day last Friday, she brought it to me (THUMP). I started to go through it.

Friday afternoon.

All day Monday.

By Tuesday morning, I was feeling stressed. Very stressed. I was only just reaching the halfway point, and the clock and calendar were both chiming "impossible deadline" in my head. I talked to BR for a sanity check (this is impossible, right?), and then went to the catalog manager and said basically, "I know I don't have to tell you that it's big, but it's really big, and even a rush job takes more time than this." She told me* that the deadlines for the catalog(s) had been pushed out about a week, and did we think we could get it in by the 19th-20th? I said we could do a better job with that, anyway, and went back to work on it with a lighter heart.

*Only later did I wonder, was she going to tell me that we could have more time? Or just wait and see if we turned it in by the 13th?

Tuesday afternoon.

Wednesday.

Thursday morning I was feeling pretty good considering the constraints, and was getting to the end of the still-semi-rushed read-through*. The stack of unread pages, which seemed unshrinking earlier in the week, was perceptibly small. Almost there, almost there...

*Ideally, it's better to go through a catalog multiple times, looking for one specific thing each time. But that takes longer.

Waterloo. I came to the index, and found it to be 18 pages of small print, listing not just the programs but every individual title. By my rough count, more than 4000 items. This was a job in itself.

I dove in (what other choice was there?), and discovered some problems with the overall index, such as the fact that titles starting with The, A, and An were alphabetized that way, instead of being properly sorted ("The Making of a Marchioness" belongs under M, not T). I also decided that I would barely have time to check the programs, let alone each title. By doing this, I was able to finish and pass the work to BR Friday morning, so she has enough time to go over it as well.

What a mess, though. And it certainly added to that Friday-afternoon, why-do-I-have-to-be-here feeling. But the work day ended, as it always does, and I am home and preparing for my day tomorrow.

I just charged the camera batteries. I'm ready!

Thursday night means tomorrow is Friday. The Thirteenth.

Pictures I didn't take today:

• the man in livery waiting in front of a hotel, holding a sign that read "Chix-fil-a". Someone is taking a chauffeured vehicle to Chick-fil-a?
• the t-shirt that said "Actually, I prefer anti-social networking."
• the woman in a super-thin, super-tight white t-shirt that showed every detail of her bra down to the tag and every bulge she had. Call the fashion police, I have a violator!
• two men at a bus stop with their cellos

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Not a rule that proofreaders should abide by:

"That just looks frickin' weird."

(But if it looks that weird, it probably is wrong.)

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The hour before lunch is often the hardest of the day for me. Proofreading a catalog of children's books when I'm hungry, where half the titles seem to feature food*, is hard on an empty stomach. And they're all so relentlessly cheerful, which gets on my nerves more and more as the clock ticks along.

*the other half feature spiders and snakes, ew

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When I started this job, I complained of the annoying process for signing up with the agency. Once that was resolved, I have little to do with them, but every week I have to log in to their site to enter my hours. Every week, I grumble about it, because the user interface is so annoying!

Here's why: When you click on the log in section of the main web page, it opens a new tab which is dedicated to logging in. There's nothing else on the page but the areas where you enter your e-mail address and password. But of course, when the page opens, it isn't ready for you to start typing, oh no.

You have to click the mouse in the box first. And after you type your password, you can't just hit "enter" on the keyboard, oh no. You have to click the "submit box" instead. (I'm a keyboard girl, can you tell? They know what I'm on this page for, don't make it harder unnecessarily.) It's such a small thing, but it annoys me Every Single Week.

And last week, when I logged in, instead of taking me to the usual page, it brought up a screen that said:

If you would like to change your password, please provide your current password.

No, I said, I don't want to change my password. Did I hit the wrong button? I went back and logged in again (because there was no way to go forward on that page otherwise)(and of course it doesn't autofill the e-mail, I have to type it all again) and it took me to the same damn page. Apparently it wanted me to change my password, and like someone speaking in a second language, it got it backwards.

Idiots. They need new IT people. The kind with logic circuits.

Laundry Night Leads to a Game

I'm doing laundry tonight. I usually try to get it done on the weekends, when time isn't so short (hopefully) and bedtime isn't looming over me.

This last weekend? Well, I didn't get to it on Saturday, which is not uncommon for me.

Didn't get a round tuit...

Sunday morning I thought I'd wait until after I went to the store. When I got home, Carlos allowed as how he'd like a lap, and since I usually have to offer and coax him, I was delighted to sit down and provide a lap. He slept there for about an hour and a half, the sweetie, twitching paws and all.

I then went on with my afternoon, and at 9:45, as I was getting into bed, I realized with much surprise that I hadn't done the laundry. I sometimes will put it off ... but forget completely? Not usually.

Fortunately, I have more than a week's worth of work- and weather-appropriate clothing. Not much more, though, so tonight's the night. Oh joy, oh rapture.

Anyway, no long rambling here tonight (you: crushed), but let's play a little game, shall we? BoingBoing posted a little tidbit recently, featuring this photo:


If you were going to continue with the series, what would your note say? How would you continue the passive-aggression?

I'll start. Mine would say, "To the first writer: please refrain from exclamation point overuse. To the Second writer, Please don't use Random Capital Letters."

And you?

Walking down Comm. Ave

You never know what you'll see, looking around the Back Bay, and I've said it before, don't forget to look UP:


To see who has the real views. Also down, and under, and into.

Would you chose a lion to be over your door?

Pillars? Or are they more properly columns?

Even more so!

I want to see this one from the inside, to see how that little window works.

You really must go the website on this sign:

To see what THIS looks like inside. My mind boggled; did yours? What do you think it costs?

Simple, classic.

The crest over the window.

See the tilework here...

...and here?

They're not all Brahmins on Commonwealth Ave.

At least, I don't think the Krishna followers are Brahmins.

In general, I just like its style. It makes me think of words whose meanings I've lost, finial and pilaster and corinth.

Thus endeth the tour for today. We hope you enjoyed the show.

Cat Photos (Because I've Been Talking A Lot Lately)

Sometimes, few words are needed. For instance, what words could describe someone choosing to sleep in this position?

Yes, seriously, completely asleep.

100% asleep. 142% adorable.

Not asleep. But suspiciously close to that other cat.

Knows he's the favorite.

Four Years, Man! Four Years! Four! Years!

Four years ago, which is actually very hard to write without riffing on four score and seven years ago, I took the step from "reading other people's blogs" to "starting my own". Blogging is a funny thing, now and four years ago, with people at all points along a spectrum of understanding. From those whose lives have changed due to it, to those who say "bla-what now?"*, this form of expression is far from being one size fits all.

*When I started doing this, and my mother showed the blog to my father, he reportedly asked what he was supposed to do with it. "Read it," my mother told him.

When I first wrote, August 9, 2006 and thereafter, I had various "reasons" for it, including these:

"the chance of connecting to someone I would otherwise never meet has a certain odd appeal."

"I suffer from polishing compulsion, where I want to make every word, every sentence, that I write perfect before I continue. ... I hope that, by blogging, I'll be able to loosen up a bit."

Today, I find my own usage of the word odd rather funny, now that I have blog-friends that I e-mail to "talk" to, and would enjoy meeting for real but feel I know already. And I am now much more comfortable with the concept of "finished is a better goal than better than perfect"; I check off the latter point as well.

It's hard to believe that there are things about myself that haven't come up in the last four years and 1000+ posts, but I came up with a few extremely minor and probably boring things that I think are making their blog debut today. Without further ado, here they are:

Totally Random Things You May Not Know About Me

• When I comb my hair after I wash it, I do so with my eyes closed. There's a reason: because when I comb into a tangle, I wince, and if I see myself do it, it hurts more. Yeah, I didn't say it was a logical reason.
• I have an inexplicable fondness for the TV show Extreme Makeover Home Edition. Sunday nights at 8, there I am, soaking in the emotional manipulation and repetitive redundancy. One Sunday evening I was on the computer, and when I saw it was 8:02, I hopped up with a cry of, "I'm missing it!" and scurried into the living room to turn on the TV. I watch reruns on TVLand and CMT. I'm sure it's staged and arranged and rehearsed and I don't care (and don't want to know).
  
• When I wear shoes with laces, the laces are always coming undone. At least once a day, often more, and always the left before the right (apparently I tend to sit with the left tucked under the right, so it loosens, or that's the theory anyway). Sneakers, boots, shoes, double-knotted, doesn't matter, they gradually loosen and flap free. Does this happen to everyone?
• I have watched NASCAR on TV, by choice (though not in a few years). (My friend Pat and I agreed, many years back, that she would teach me about NASCAR while I taught her about hockey. Therefore, I became a Dale Earnhardt fan, and she "rooted" for the Bruins. Naturally.) I would venture to guess that none of my friends could say this. I'm not bragging and I'm not ashamed, but it's one of those things that I would have trouble telling someone without feeling the need to explain.

Do you have any questions that you'd like to ask? Feel free, and I may even answer!

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Off topic, but hockey fans are counting down to training camp (opens September 17th!), and here's a great fan-made video tribute to get you in the mood (assuming you're a Bruins fan):



Summer must end, which is sad, but at least it means hockey begins again.

Snark, Squick, Crafts, and Reading

Friday morning on the T, I heard that Snarky Voice in my head again. I really wanted to turn to the woman next to me, who apparently Could Not Keep Still, and say:

"You know, the way you keep rubbing your arm against my arm revolts me so much that if you keep doing it, I may very well throw up all over you. Just FYI."

Seriously, she just keep moving, get a tissue, put it away, get out her phone, put it away, get out a tissue. And every single move involved arm contact, though I was as tucked into myself as I could be. Urgh. Boundaries, please!

The drawback to knitting through the commute is that if you get annoyed enough, you start to contemplate the knitting needle as weapon.

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I check weather.com frequently, whether it's at work to see how hot or likely to rain it is (can I eat lunch outside? do I need my umbrella to get home?), or at home to check on rain (mostly for the sake of windows). I hate how flashy-flashy their ads are, but otherwise the site is a useful one so I put up with them.

Except. Lately they've had a pop-over ad that drives me away shuddering. You know pop-overs, where suddenly some advertising is between you and the page you're trying to read? They're sort of like a migraine aura in that way (hint for weather.com decision-makers: this is not a good analogy to be associated with).

And this one is a bug. Sort of roachy, maybe? I'm not exactly sure--since it's about 4 inches long, when it walks onto the screen I squeal, avert my gaze, and scramble for the keyboard to close the window before I can study it too closely. Well, not that I would study it anyway; I can't even look at it. Eeewwwww! Whoever thought that was a good idea has serious problems.

Again, weather.com decision-makers? An ad that drives people away from your site is not really a good idea. And since I have no idea what it advertises (because I can't stand to look at it), it's failing the first rule of advertising as well.

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Four years ago, I went on a day trip to the annual fair of the League of New Hampshire Craftsmen, which is held in August. I no longer remember where I heard about it, but somehow I did, and when I learned that there was a glass-blowing workshop, I was hooked.

The workshop was neat, and I still have the three pieces I made there:

Me! I made these!

Now, this one is, ah, the least impressive. The colors didn't mix, but sort of blobbed, making it hard to see the imprint (it's a moose).


But these two I love and treasure. And I made them!

It's a kind of inkwell shape, so I like to put the dangling ornament in it like a pen. I am easily amused.

I also enjoyed shopping the vendors, thinking of Christmas and upcoming birthdays, admiring the craftsmanship of the work. I got this bowl-thing there, or at least I think this was the one I got there.


I kind of have a thing for wooden bowls, so it's hard to be positive.

A quick look around found these, and I'm sure I have more.

Anyway, this one has a neat turned base, too. I really like it.


It sits on my bedside table to be admired regularly (and hold my Chapstick).

I remembered the fair recently (again, not sure what brought it to mind), and I think I'll go again this year, probably next Saturday (the 14th). (It runs from the 7th to the 15th, though of course my choices are limited to weekends.) It's a bit of a hike from here, or rather a drive (it's at Sunapee, if you know New Hampshire), but lots of treasure at the end.

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Have you heard that California overturned Prop 8? The on-again, off-again legality of same-sex marriages on the left coast is on again, whew.

The Globe's Big Picture took same-sex marriages in various countries as its subject this week, and looking at the pictures, I was struck with the joy in so many faces. Worth a look.

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Thinking About Reading
Or more specifically, about blogging about reading.

Because I read a lot. Sometimes it seems funny to me that I don't write about books more here, given that I read a ton, and reading is 25% of the blog name and all. I feel like I have a problem wholeheartedly recommending a book, even one I liked, without a lot of back-pedaling and assurances that just because I liked it doesn't mean anything! Which is weird, but that's what starts going through my head when I think about reviewing books. (Even funnier to think that for a couple of years, I had book reviews published in a newspaper. How did I do that again?)

I'm going to try emulating the book review format used by Unshelved, an online comic set in the world of libraries and books (it's pretty fun, if you like that sort of thing; try this one). In addition to drawing the comic, the cartoonists and various and assorted others (including a couple of their kids) will regularly post book reviews, and I like the way they lay out the information. I think that the concise, fact-based structure has a better chance of getting by my self-doubting inner critic.

Each review contains the following categories:

• Info
• summary
• Why I picked it up
• Why I finished it
• I'd give it to

I may not always be able to say "why I picked it up", since the lag time between requesting a book from the library and when it comes in means that often I can't remember where I heard about it. I'll try to keep track, but I'm not promising.

So here's an example:

• Info: The Making of a Marchioness, by Frances Hodgson Burnett
• Summary (from Amazon UK): Frances Hodgson Burnett published The Making of a Marchioness in 1901. She had written Little Lord Fauntleroy fifteen years before and would write The Secret Garden in ten years time; it is these two books for which she is best known. Yet Marchioness was one of Nancy Mitford's favourite books, was considered 'the best novel Mrs Hodgson Burnett wrote' by Marghanita Laski and is taught on a university course in America together with novels such as Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre and Daisy Miller.
• Why I picked it up: Initially found on a random wander through the shelves of my local library. I picked it up because the cover showed the author as "Mrs. Hodgson Burnett", which caught my eye, plus I had vague associations of A Little Princess and The Secret Garden. I opened it and was drawn in to the character at once. (I recently bought my own copy via eBay, though the library copy was actually the original book and the sequel, while what I bought is the original only, so I have to get the sequel separately at some point. Which is fine, because I simply love the copy I got. It feels perfect in my hand. And there's actually quite a difference in the tone of the two books, so having them in separate volumes works for me.)
• Why I finished it: I love the character of Emily Fox-Seton. Reading about her inherent cheerfulness and essential goodness in difficult situations was almost inspiring. She's sensible and capable but not a goody-goody or a prig. She's so interested in life and other people, and so unaware of how much she helps others. She's not clever, but she's endearing.
• I'd give it to: Anyone looking for a soothing, refreshing novel, the book equivalent of comfort food. Not bland, but restful.

Want a second opinion? While researching the title, I ran across a blog review from a few years ago that I thought did a very nice job.

Also, if by chance you want to read it, it's available at Project Gutenberg.

In other book news, I recently read about a website called Paperback Swap, and had to check it out. Turns out, it pretty much is just what it says: you list some books you want to get rid of (not just paperbacks), and use the credit to request books that other people have listed. All you pay is the postage to mail your books out.

I thought it sounded worth trying, so I rounded up some books that have been lurking in the corners, waiting for me to get things together to bring to the Salvation Army.

A few specifics I appreciate:

• When you are sending out a book, you print out the label and just wrap it around the book. You can wrap the book in a plastic bag first, but it's pretty simple. Take it to the PO and off you go.
• If a book you want isn't available, you can put it on your wish list, and the site lets you know when one is listed.
• You can add specific instructions, such as that you don't want books from a smoking household.

Two of the ones I listed were requested almost at once, and others have been since. I've received the first one I "ordered", and have another on the way. Pretty neat, I think.

More book stuff to come.

Miri wants to know why I have to be around so much, scaring her.

Carlos can't fathom why I'm not here more often to cater to him.

Life is a balancing act. Whoever said that you can't please everyone could have been talking about these two.

Wet Thursday Thoughts on Insides and Outsides

I got soaked when I left work tonight. Soaked to the skin. It was not just rain, but a torrential downpour, with lightning and everything. I managed to find one extremely small bright side: once my skirt was wet through, it didn't move around much in the wind, leaving me a hand free to turn my umbrella back to the standard shape when it blew inside out.

I said it was an extremely small bright side!

Anyway, it felt great to get home and into dry clothes. There's nothing like being that wet to make me appreciate the state of dry again.

On with tonight's random assortment!

Insides and Outsides
It seems to me that the men of Boston don't wear suits as much in the summer (not that I blame them), and most of the men I see during my commute are more casually dressed. (Maybe the suit-wearers are just less likely to take the T? There are certainly some men in suits on the streets. Perhaps they all drive in.) This morning, though, a man got on the T most elegantly attired, in a stylish suit that even had a jaunty pocket square. He sat next to me, and how do you think he spent his time?

1. reading the Financial Times or the Wall Street Journal
2. studying work-related paperwork, like a legal brief
   
3. reading the Globe or Metro
4. reading a business book
5. checking his smart phone to see how the Nikkei did overnight
6. reading a Tom Clancy novel
7. using his smart phone to play a video game involving a cartoon character and exploding things
   

Did you guess #7? Yes, there he was, example A of not judging a book by its cover. Not that there's anything wrong with video games (unless they make noise in public, and his was silent), just that it didn't seem to fit the persona. But a person is more than a persona.

Inappropriate in the Workplace
I live in a glass house when it comes to fashion, and am well aware of that fact. I'm content if I manage clean and tidy (and not too furry). I prize comfort over style, and am probably middling conservative. So I'm not really criticizing when people wear outfits that are kind of out-there, just because I wouldn't. I'm a jeans and t-shirt girl mostly, with no pretensions to elegance. I saw the most elegant, casually-dressed older woman on the street the other morning--she looked fabulous, in jeans and a lovely tunic-length top--and it made me sad that I will likely never look that good. But I accept this. We are who we are.

I'm also sure that I too would benefit from checking how outfits look from behind, with the too-tight and the jiggle-jiggle and so on that one sees around (like that woman I was behind going down stairs at the T the other day--if she'd known that top gave her such serious back cleavage, I bet she would have chosen something with a different neckline). There are a few things above and beyond these, though, that (to me! to me! only my opinion, like everything else around here) simply do not belong in the workplace:

• Flip-flops. These bother me in both look and sound. I'm not all that fond of real sandals that make the same noise, but at least they look nice. If your job isn't located on the beach, you should not be wearing flip-flops to work. (To get to work, fine, but then switch to real footwear.) Thwack-thwack somewhere else.
• Short-shorts, or short skirts. Please, I try not to be a prude for other people, but I don't want to see that much of your legs. Also, refrain from shirts that aren't long enough for you to move without revealing that lower-back tattoo or thong preference. I do not know you well enough.
  
• Four-inch heels. Call me conservative, but I don't think that what they say belongs in the office. (And on a similar note, to the young woman I saw recently talking to someone at her desk, with her legs crossed toward him while fiddling with her hair, honey. Don't. It's an office, not a bar. At least be subtle.)
• Visible bra straps. Not just a little glimpse, but obvious style incompatibility between shirt and bra.
• Plunging cleavage. It's distracting, even to other heterosexual women.
  
• Audible expletives. Everyone has had that day, that mood, that temperamental computer, that job. In general, though, no one should hear you swear unless they walk up to your desk at just the wrong moment. People who sit ten feet or more away from you should not know what your favorite curse is.

Any others you would suggest?

Insides, Outsides, ELEM
One of the best pieces of advice I try to live by (and it's hard for me) is not to judge my insides against anyone else's outsides. That elegant woman I saw the other day may have a miserable life, she may be selfish or unhappy or lonely, who knows? While I admired her outside, I reminded myself of that.

Although, I was wondering, does anyone else ever catch a glimpse of themselves in a mirror from the side, instead of the standard front-on mirror usage, and find themselves a little surprised at their three-dimensionality? Heaven knows, I am aware that I'm not a paper doll, but still. It catches me off guard sometimes. Anyone else? Bueller?

After several weeks of holding steady, my weight finally dropped a little as of last Saturday, to which I say thank god for a smidgen of motivation. It was getting veryvery hard to keep going with the not-eating-everything and the walking-walking-walking when the scale wasn't moving (nor the fit of clothing, in case anyone was going to say that muscle weighs more than fat; I don't think that's happening here at the moment either, sadly). Of course, the weight loss is largely due to being sick last Monday (seriously, the difference between the previous Saturday and Tuesday morning was drastic), but I'll take it. Any motivational port in a storm of ELEM.

In other health news, I am greatly saddened to say that I must cut back somewhat on my new love, frozen pomegranate seeds. I still love them, they're still available at Trader Joe's and I have umpteen bags in the freezer, but ... well ... well, let's just say that my system is not used to such impressive amounts of fiber, and leave it at that, shall we? I'm still eating them, but it has to be less than I was eating (which was a lot).

Bring on the ice cream! (just kidding...kind of)(I read about freezing grapes for a snack; are grapes a major source of fiber? anyone know?)

Hmm. I'm not sure I've achieved the narrative flow I was hoping for today. Oh well, what else is new?

Overheard on the T; In My Head; Big Cats and Catnip

(Yes, three really unconnected things. Sorry. All connectivity is lost tonight.)
(Unlike most nights. I know. Shut up.)

The other day on the T, there was a group of 4 people near me who I couldn't help hearing. It was crowded, so I couldn't move away, and they talked and talked and talked.

One guy was doing most of the talking, and guess what, he goes to Harvard! No, really! He just applied as a joke, but they didn't think it was funny! (Direct quote.)

He was also wearing a hooded sweatshirt with the Harvard logo on it. Now, we recently had some milder weather, but that means that it was closer to 80 than 90, not that it was hooded-sweatshirt weather, so make of that what you will. (I am reminded of a character in a book long forgotten, who bought Harvard notebooks at the Coop to use for his classes at another school, thinking that the students would assume he had transferred.)

Also in this group was a young woman who might have been in high school (since early in the conversation one of them asked her where she had applied). Her initial reaction to almost everything that Harvard said was, "Wait, what?" Verbal tic? Slow on the uptake? Who knows?

The conversation at one point touched on the dorm that Harvard is in now (as opposed to the one he was in as a freshman)(why do I need to know this?)(oh, right, I don't), and he talked about the associated dining hall:

• Harvard: "...and the walls are a nice yellow that goes with the three crystal chandeliers."
• Possibly HS Girl: "Wait, what? Chandelier?"
• Harvard: "Three crystal chandeliers."

I wonder how he would have felt if he'd know that instead of being impressed, I was pitying him?

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It's probably not a nice thing to shriek out the window at the 87 children playing next door to shut the fuck up, is it?

I didn't think so. I really want to, though.

Or, as I imagined yesterday, get a BB gun and shoot the fucking basketball, since they seem to play with the damn thing 27 hours a day. Thump, thump, thump. Tonight, with extra shrieking! (And not to be sexist, but usually it's the boys playing, with no shrieking, "just" mild yelling. Tonight it's girls, and oh mah gah, the shrieks. I thought it was annoying before.)

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Hey cat people, if you've ever looked at the big cats at the zoo and wondered, "How would they like catnip?"



The answer is mostly, "Quite a lot actually."

Ta-da! Secret Knitting Revealed

Look what I made!

Not a pig in a poke...

I don't exactly like keeping knitting projects secret from the blog, because I enjoy talking about what I'm working on and how it's going, but sometimes it's necessary, and I do like the reveal!

In this case, I was knitting a little something for a virtual baby shower for Jess, of Du Wax Loolu, whose blog I've been reading for a long time now. When I heard about the baby shower, I wanted to do something, and as there wasn't a lot of time, it would have to be pretty small. Here's what I made:

Jess and Torsten are referring to the baby as Piglet, since they bought a cute print of a pig for the nursery, so of course I went to Ravelry to see what was out there in a piggy way. I really liked this pattern, especially the tail:


I did modify the pattern a little. The first was unintentional, since I didn't read the pattern thoroughly enough ahead of time. One was supposed to repeat rows 5 and 6 for rows 7 to 12 (so three times), and I only did it once. I didn't realize I'd done it until I was at the top, and looked closely at what I'd done at the bottom. I decided that I didn't mind the way it looked, certainly not enough to frog the whole thing and start over, so I did the same thing at the top, and moved on.

Then, because I wanted to make a little pillow, I decided to keep going rather than bind off and make the back separately. I did a purl row to mark the turn, then knit all the way down. Add the tail (the best part of the pattern, in my opinion), and an eye (the pattern called for a bead, but since this may be near a baby, I went with yarn instead), sew it and stuff it and done!

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Here's a treasure from the Sheldon archives, one which drew from me a strong Amen!


What, you can't read it? It lives here, and sums up my feelings about cities. And it ran on my last birthday! Ooh, spooky.

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Hypothetical question: if you have startled a cat into a loss of dignity, is it better to apologize while laughing, or to move away and pretend it never happened?

On the Road Again; Plus, a Cat Theory

The road to a job, that is. Yes, this job goes for a while longer, until October first to be precise, but before that day I'll need to pull my socks up and re-enter the job hunt. What fun! Ha. Ha. Woo.

I'm going to need to ease into this, like getting in the water when it's not quite warm enough...

A while back, I pondered the idea of getting business cards for my job search, the idea being to have a (quick, professional) way to hand out contact info prior to the full resume. I didn't do it then, but I'm going to do it now.

And it's going to look like this:


Except of course it'll have my name above "Proofreader", and phone number below it, and full e-mail address, naturally. If I had InDesign, I'd make/fake a version for the blog, but I don't*, so you'll have to use your imagination.

*Except at work, and I don't think that's exactly what they pay me for.

What do you think of it? By which I really mean, how much do you love it?

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I have a new theory about Miri: I think that she thinks I am three different people, depending on whether I am standing, sitting, or lying down. I'm basing this on her behavior and evident trust, depending on what I'm doing:

If I'm lying down, I am to be trusted unless I make sudden or violent movements, particularly arm movements (hands are of course extra scary). Turning over in bed is usually allowed, but occasionally causes her to flee. Otherwise, though, she'll curl up with me and Carlos, allow me to pet her and even kiss her fur, as though this was perfectly normal.

If I'm sitting, I am to be cautiously trusted. She will approach me, warily, allow me to pet her, repeat, then skitter away, to a safe distance beyond arm's length. She'll approach if I'm sitting at the computer, on the couch, even on the john, but oh is she ever vigilant.

If I'm standing and walking, look out, she'll freak. About one time in a thousand, she won't run from me when I walk toward her (I think she doesn't run that once just to mess with me). Generally, she flees in panic from the merest hint of motion. Body language doesn't help, as I try to indicate that I am going right when she is on my left, or that all I want is to pet Carlos, lying nearby--and she runs anyway. And if she's in the window by the bed and I come in to lie down, she will almost always flee even though lying down puts me in condition green: lying down again. Flee first, ask questions later.

I don't think this information is going to help much, in practical terms ... but I do think I'm onto something.

Short Takes

• This afternoon at work, one of the printers near my desk began making a Noise. A most irritating Noise. I suggested that it resembled Morse code, while my more prosaic neighbor countered with the possibility of a belt that needed oil. Whatever the cause, given that the printer tends to go pretty steadily all day, just 15 minutes of not-quite-continuous noise (it sometimes stopped for as much as 10 seconds) was enough to have me on the brink. I'd rather it broke down (a not-uncommon occurrence) than have to listen to that.
  

• Preppy Isn't Dead, example 2: I saw a man today in knee-length pale yellow shorts and loafers with no socks. At least this one wasn't spotted walking into an office building.

Disapproving Cat

Disapproving Cat.

Disapproving cat disapproves of many things.

Disapproves. Did you hear me? Have I made myself clear?

At rest (still disapproving).

Do not try to sneak in knitting shots and expect the disapproving to stop. Not going to happen.

Especially if you can't focus better than that. Honestly.

I can't even look at you.

Quick Friday Moments

Well, if my Friday isn't quite like this:




It is at least feeling like this:



I was in bed by 8:30 last night. Around 8, I got all bent out of shape by something stupid, because I was so tired that I just could not cope. (Why am I so tired? Is it this stupid exercising?) I even knew, while I was feeling it, that I was losing my shit out of all proportion to the offense, but knowing it didn't help.

I didn't fall asleep right away, but just lying in bed was such a wonderful, physical relief. I read for a few minutes before lying down, and it felt like something was pushing on my shoulders, trying to get me horizontal. Crazy tired. I'm not quite that bad tonight, but I won't be up much longer.

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Snark Moment

There was a moment at work this morning when I wanted to open a conference room door and say, "Dude, FTLOG, I sit four rows of cubes away, the door is closed, and I can still hear you. Clearly. You are not in a thousand-seat theater projecting to the back row. You are in a conference room that is filled by a table seating 12. Tone it down, please."

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Proofreader Moment

Errors I have found at work this week:

• thnk
  
• carefullly
• quanitative
• conceptulally

I mock spell-check as much as the next word-nut, but heavens, this sort of thing is What Spell-Check Is For. Crazy as it may make me when spell-check suggests "alarmed" for my carefully typed "Alameda", and little though it helps when you have a their/there/they're or pour/pore situation, misspelled words are its reason for being. Use it.

Please. Every time you don't run spell-check, a proofreader dies a little inside.

Random, With a Side of "What Does That Have To Do With...?"

I'm not sure if I've really been extra-tired this week (perhaps as follow-up to having been sick on Monday), or if it just seems that way. Yesterday I was jaw-cracking tired, today almost as much.

I slept badly Monday night (not surprising, given that I was in bed half of Monday), so to prevent a repeat on Tuesday night I took a Tylenol-PM. Realistically, one pill taken at 9:30 PM was not what made me killer tired all day Wednesday, up to and through 5 PM, but why else was I that tired? I didn't take one Wednesday night, just in case, and I was awfully tired again today (though I slept fine, at least).

Basically: I'm sooo tired. Tiiiiiiired! Why? Whhhhhyyyyyyyy?

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At work today, someone put out leftover desserts from some gathering, sugar cookies and brownies and something else. Around 4 I was feeling like having a sweet treat, so I snagged a small piece of brownie.

Well, yuck! I don't know if they were some special formula (vegan? gluten-free?), but that was nasty. Not only did I throw the rest of it away, I actually grabbed a tissue and spat out what was in my mouth. Waste calories on that? No way. I even took the nearest thing to get the taste out of mouth, which was Tums!

It really almost makes me curious about what kind of brownies those were. I mean, were they supposed to taste like that? I kind of want to sidle up to the maker and whisper, "Ghirardelli Double Chocolate Brownie Mix. It will change your life. Go to the grocery store, now."

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I didn't eat lunch outside yesterday or today, and I really missed it. Even on hot days, I like getting out of the climate control into the real world. Granted, on really hot days, I'm thrilled to come back in, but I think that's understandable.

Today I didn't go out because it rained this morning, and I figured the benches would probably still be damp. (I did step outside for a few minutes and oof, the humidity.) Yesterday, the department had a little celebratory lunch (apparently, after some tough times, things have been looking up for the last six months). It was nice of them to do, though the food was merely fine, not fantastic. Still, I don't want to knock a free lunch! We even ate in the board room, ooh. Always interesting to see how the other half lives.

I want to eat outside tomorrow, though.

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random image courtesy of Zazzle

If you're not a knitter (or even if you are, I suppose), you may not know there are t-shirts (and other items) that say, "I knit so I don't kill people".

I was thinking this week, while knitting on the T, that I'd prefer one that says, "I knit so I can stand public transit".

It can be so nasty, riding the T, and sometimes I only get through it by breathing and focusing on the knitting, only the knitting, don't think about anything but the knitting. Don't look around, try not to breathe (through the nose), just knit, just knit.

Because even a book I enjoy may not be enough to get me through the feelings of, "He's about to step on my foot, isn't he? Who smells like that? Does that guy not realize that when he leans on the barrier, his butt is resting against my shoulder? Is that woman even trying not to rub our arms together? My elbows are practically touching, my arms are so compressed out of the way, and I can't get away from her arm. Ugh! Ew! Breathe. Knit. One, two, three, two, one..."

Unfortunately, even knitting can't help me on the bus, because of the fact that I rarely get a seat, and there really isn't a good, solid place to stand. (I did try to knit standing once, but the jerk-and-sway was too much for me: I nearly fell over. I can knit standing on the T, if it's not too crowded, but the bus flunked.) I've said it before, I'm only on the bus for five minutes but it's the worst five minutes of the commute.

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There is a list at work of all the trademarked names we may need to use, and how we're supposed to list them (e.g., "Newbury^® is a registered trademark of the American Library Association")(so not just our products, but also references to Mac and Kindle and McDonald's; and do we really refer to American Idol? When?).

The most irritating thing about the list isn't that they keep updating it; I get that things change, and although there have been about half a dozen versions of this list sent out in the two and a half months I've worked there, well, it happens.

No, what really bugs me is the formatting. Of course.

It's an 11-page list, and:

• it uses four different fonts, mostly Ariel but switching no less than 20 times to Lucida and Verdana and Times;
• some of the text is in green, red, and blue, for no consistent reason;
• the hanging indents are inconsistent;
• some of the items are repeated;
• it's mostly in alphabetical order--but not completely;
• I am dubious of its accuracy (for example, the browser I use every day is "Firefox", not "Fire fox". [Yes there's a difference; yes it matters.] And then there's "Strabucks").
  

Basically, it's a lovely example of how to drive a proofreader insane.

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In case you thought Preppy was gone: today I saw a man wearing a lilac polo shirt, and slacks just short enough that I could tell he wore his loafers with no socks.

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Finally, to wrap up the random, here's a randomly-selected photo. Welcome to the Boston Public Library.


I love books.

A Quick Thought About Blog-Reading

One of the things that I find interesting about reading blogs is that I often have virtually nothing in common, superficially at least, with people whose blogs I really enjoy. A lot of them are married, have kids, are super-outgoing, or are athletic*. Some even don't like cats! If you can imagine.

*These sorts of things are true of some of my friends, too. Hmm.

But I find that when people's writing makes me think, or nod, or laugh out loud, I come back for more. As in:

...when I run, my head overheats, and when my head overheats I feel like murdering everyone in my vicinity (don’t worry, I don’t have the stamina).

So that's all I have tonight, but if you wanted to mosey over to Pickles & Dimes, you might like it. Or not. I do, is all I'm saying.

Have you ever analyzed why you read what you do?

Briefly

I did feel better this morning than yesterday, so I went to work, but I didn't feel 100%. Exhibit A was when I looked at a list of abbreviated titles and didn't immediately guess that RETCHNG was "reteaching". Yeah. The afternoon was better than the morning, though, which I guess is preferable to the other way around.

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I hope I make it to my stitch and bitch group next week. It's been one thing after another on Monday nights lately, and I've only made it once in the last few months. I miss it!

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I am currently pretending that I only have one cat. That would be Carlos, who is not responsible for the scratch on my arm. I may start calling him The Good Cat.

I managed to catch Miri last night, after several weeks of knowing I needed to. I had discovered, through the cautious and infrequent petting that she allows me to do, that she had a fairly large mat in her fur, which I knew I was going to have to do something about. The joys of a super-skittish long-haired cat are legion!

So I got her by the scruff, and she sank into a tense coma while I tried to comb and cut it out one-handed. In fact, she was so still that I was lulled into a sense of false security, and loosened my grip somewhat. As soon as I did, she launched like the space shuttle, leaving me pissed and bleeding. I got most of the clump out, and the little ingrate will just have to live with the rest until I heal (both scratch and temper).

The little pissant is being friendly to me tonight, and I am simply not in the mood for her.

Further evidence that I am a delicate flower: I put a bandage on it last night, to avoid bleeding on the bed. That bandage did not want to come off this morning, ow.

Word Analysis: "Sick" and "Suck". Discuss.

Bleagh. Yeah, unfortunately I didn't feel better today. In fact, I woke at 2 this morning with an awful headache, and finally threw up at 3:30, after which I was finally able to get to sleep again. (It was pretty miserable being so tired and not able to lie down, between 2 and 3:30.)

Further unfortunately, though, the headache didn't go away (which, when this has happened in the past, was the case), and when I woke at 6 I knew that work was out of the question. I sent my boss the message and went back to bed.

I woke again at 10, still feeling sick, enough that I thought I might be sick again. It didn't happen, and I went back to bed around 11:30. Up around 1, back down around 3:30 ... you get the picture. Right now, my head doesn't hurt and my stomach is just faintly funny, so it's an improvement. I have my fingers crossed that the worst is behind me, oh please.

Would you cross your fingers, too?

Counting to three can be good, on a not-great day

One of the things that sucks about being an adult: having to get off the couch, whither cramps and a headache have sent you, to do laundry so you have something decent and weather-appropriate for work the next day.

Two things that can suck about neighbors: one, when they cook something that smells delicious and you can't have any, and two, when they cook something that smells repugnant, and you have to hold your breath in the hall.

"Three good things that happened today" is something I like to consider when I get in bed at night. Tonight's could be that I finished the small secret knitting project AND mailed it out, that I slept in (which gave the headache med help in removing the worst of it), and that there are sunsets and rainbows if you look for them:




There's also knitting that I can show you, namely the growing drop stitch scarf.


This is one of those times when knitting makes me feel rather clever.


And that is all for now.

Bag Tales

Having been thwarted in my many attempts to find, even for ready money*, the exact perfect know-it-when-I-see-it commuting bag that I wanted, I have decided to try a different tack.

*name that reference

The main problem I've been having with the bag I've used for the last two months is that it's not quite big enough for commuting purposes*, yet it's bigger than I need the rest of the time. So I got a slightly bigger (and better) bag to use for commuting, which is big enough to hold my actual purse instead of just having purse stuff tucked here and there, in pockets and pouches.

*Purse things, book and knitting, lunch bag, and water bottle every day; umbrella, shoes, sweater some days as needed; once in a while a bottle of lotion or box of tissues

This means that I don't need the bag to have all the pockets for purse things (part of what I was looking for in a new bag), and also that when I'm not commuting I take just the purse with me, the way I used to, instead of carrying the whole (old) bag.

Let me show you what I mean. Here we have the two bags. On the left is the one I bought in May; on the right, the new bag, which arrived this week.


The old one was about $13, bought at Home Goods, and was actually (here's a secret) intended to be a diaper bag. I know, I know, but it was in with all the tote bags and purses, and I thought it might work. Which it mostly kind of did, but not well (on Monday, I was stuffing things into it and growling, "It's smaller on the inside than the outside!"), I don't like the colors that much, it's not of very good quality*, and it has some annoying features, so while I was able to make it work, I never stopped looking for a better solution.

*Some of the stitching started coming out about a week into use.

The new one was $19.99 on eBay, brand new in the box with tags. It's well-made (by the Swiss Army Knife people), and I absolutely love the color. I wish it had a water-bottle pocket on one end, but still I think it's going to be a better solution than its predecessor.

There's even a loop on the back that is perfect for my watch; it lies flat, and is easily visible/accessible.


On the other bag, the only place to clip the watch was on the end of the usually unzipped top zipper, which meant that, a), I had to dig down in the bag to find it and pull it out to check the time, and b), if I needed to zip the bag, it had to come off.

I learned yesterday that while it's moisture-resistant, it is not fully rain-repellent. (The books that got damp are flattening nicely in a stack of other books; see the pile behind the old bag in the picture above?) Still, the rain was pretty heavy, so that's not bad.

And I would like to say, it was barely drizzling when I chose to walk home. And by the time the bus caught up, I was wet enough despite the umbrella that there seemed like no point in not finishing the walk.

Moving on.

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Friday morning, some people were giving away drinks near the subway station.


I'd never heard of it; you? Check out the back:

"What do vitamins actually do for you? They counteract the bad stuff you did to yourself last night."

Hmm. I really get the sense that I am not the target audience for this product.

I did try it, but I didn't much like it. On the other hand, I tend to drink either plain tap water, or sometimes soda. Wishy-washy in-betweens, not so much.

So why did you even try it, then?

Who knows. It was free. Only 30 calories, so not much risk.

Oh, just look at the pretty flower.