Roundup - sans flooding talk

I refuse to blog about the rain. I'm too sick of it. I don't want to talk about it. Instead, I think I may do a roundup. I haven't done one of those in a while. Here are things on my mind:

1. Don't bring your children to work. I know school is out. I know daycare is expensive. And I realize that you're child is good and mature and a joy to be around. But I can't emphasize this enough: no one else wants to spend their whole day with your kid - particularly if they have grown-up work stuff to do. Should I say it again? Because it's important. People do not want to spend their whole day with someone else's kid unless it's their job to do so, meaning they are a daycare worker or a babysitter. I am neither of those things, and neither are most, if not all, of your co-workers.

2. Don't name your kids something weird. I realize it's all about YOU and how cool YOU are because you were able to think up something weird and you had the balls to step outside the norm and actually name your child after fruit or a musical instrument, but for chrissake, the kid has to live with that name for the rest of his life. Every single year, he has to endure the snickers and teasing from other kids, correct teachers who can't believe someone seriously named their child something that stupid and bizarre and try to normalize the name, and then they hit adolescence, and well, isn't being 15 bad enough without being named after Superman's father? Then there's whole "being taken seriously" as an adult. Just set your desperate need for attention and to be "creative" and "individual" aside and give them a name that isn't scarring at worst and annoying at best.

3. Paula Abdul has some new reality show/documentary thing about to start, where cameras follow her around and record her bitter and somewhat paranoid daily ravings. No good can come of this, Paula. If it's not too late, consider pulling the plug. Don't say no one told you.

4. I watched a documentary about the Statue of Liberty the other night. It made me cry. I love this country. I really hope we're able to not only survive against the people trying to take us down, from within and without, but prosper in the ideals this country was founded upon. We really are the best thing going. Why do you think so many people want to come here? I haven't noticed Iran struggling with how to handle a massive immigration problem.

5. I also this week watched a documentary about Niagara Falls. Amazing! I really MUST get up to see it one of these days. I've said that for years, and I haven't made it up there, but now that I know even more about the falls, and I'm even more awed than ever about them, I've just got to make it a point to see them with my own eyes. That and the Grand Canyon. Can you believe I haven't seen the Grand Canyon? Me neither. Oh, and Mount Rushmore. Gotta see that. Man, there's still so much cool stuff to see that I haven't seen yet! And this is all just in the U.S. Don't even get me started on all the international trips I want to take! Travel rocks.

6. And last but not least for today, apparently Mitt Romney's name translates to "sticky rice" in Chinese. Yahoo has a story about how all the U.S. presidential candidates' names translate here.I don't want to know how mine translates. Unless it's something awesome, like "beautiful and brilliant flower."

Note to...everyone.

Okay, people. Here's the deal. From now on, when you meet a woman who is over 35 and she's single, no matter how badly you want to know, no matter how crazy the reality of her singledom seems to you, do not, I repeat, DO NOT ask her, "So, why aren't you married?"

One of my new co-workers is a young woman in her early 20s. She's a nice girl. She's personable. I like her. But yesterday, in the course of some conversation we were having, she asked me that question. And I wanted to kill her.

Maybe it's because she's in her early 20s. She has no idea what it's like to be 38 and...well, she has no idea. I've spent the better part of a decade asking myself the question she asked. My friends have asked the question. My family has asked the question. And I suppose I'm glad the answer isn't obvious. It would be worse, I suppose, if people looked at me and said, "Well, of course she's not married." Or if they got to know me and said, "Would you want to be married to that?"

So, let me be clear that I'm glad it's such a mystery to people. But seriously, I think I may start answering that question with, "Because clearly I'm unlovable." I mean, I could go with, "It's the lesions." Or, "The voices tell me not to." Or my personal favorite, "What circus clown?? WHERE???!" But if I went with the unlovable thing, maybe they'd get that's actually a rather painful subject. I didn't choose it. I don't want it. And there doesn't appear to much I can do about it. I get out, I meet people, I do things. And it is what it is. God seems to have his own plan about things.

So, for the record: there is nothing wrong with me. I'm normal. I have no commitment phobias. I date when I can (I'm not some shut-in hoping that Mr. Right will come knock on my door, making a FedEx delivery). I'm not gay. I've had real relationships with decent men. There's nothing that would make me particularly hard to live with, and my friends and family seem to like me. I'm not perfect, but no one is. And overall, the consensus seems to be I'd be quite a catch. I just haven't found the right person at the right time. That's it. That's all. So, unless you'd like to see a perfectly nice person's head explode right in front of you, please do not ask me why I'm not married. And spare any other woman over 35 that you know the same question. We don't feel like answering it.

A weekend at home...finally.

My first weekend at home in a month was a rousing success. I haven't been blogging much about my weekends and social activities lately, so you may not know this, but I've been out of town the last three weekends in a row. Such things cause a person's house to get completely out of hand. But this weekend, I finally stayed home and actually got to do both social and practical things. Here is the roundup:

Friday night. I got home, changed into comfortable clothes, laid down on the couch to watch TV and try and convince myself to do something productive. After about half an hour, Angela called me and invited me to go out with her and her boyfriend's posse. This was way more appealing that doing something productive. So, after about another half hour on the couch, I finally got up and showered and repackaged myself for a night out. Big fun was had by all (except for the loser on the rooftop at Speakeasy who was wearing sunglasses - at 1:00 a.m. Angela tried to explain to him that the sunglasses were truly a hindrance to whatever it was he was trying to accomplish, but he continued to wear them anyway. Loser.).

Saturday. I did not leave the house. In a good way. I got through some paperwork that had been piling up, made pumpkin bread for a reception (church thing, but not a wedding thing), did laundry and managed to watch the entire third season of "Deadliest Catch." There was a marathon on the Discovery channel. It's called multi-tasking. And no, I haven't seen seasons one or two, so I'll have to catch up on them at some point. Maybe Netflix has it.

Sunday. I went to Sunday School and the aforementioned reception. This is where I must complain. I really like the lady who planned the reception. Earlier in the week, she asked for help setting up, and I said I'd help because anytime I can help this lady out, and hang out with her for that matter, I'm on board. Did I mention she's in her mid-70s? I love her, though. I want to be her when I'm in my 70s. What I didn't know was that Control Freak Lady (another member of our Sunday School class) was also helping. "Helping" is the wrong word when Control Freak Lady is involved. The proper expression of her efforts is "taking over."

I might as well have not been there. CFL took over everything, instructing us where to put things and what to do and how to do it, according to her wishes (I should repeat here that she was NOT the host of this reception - mid-70s lady was the host) - except me. She instructed me in nothing. Me, she ignored. She acted like I wasn't there, even ignoring me outright when I tried to chime in a couple of times about things. Oh, except when I offered to go get the fruit tray out of the church fridge. She then acknowledged me enough to tell me that SHE thought it should come out later. Fine. Do it yourself, then, CFL.

Worse yet, I had been led to believe that the reception would start an hour earlier than it actually did. So, I had to wander around, helping with nothing (since CFL deemed me invisible), for a freakin' hour, waiting for the reception to begin. I would've walked out except that I didn't want mid-70s lady to be upset if she figured out I was leaving because I was pissed, and I didn't want to leave without actually attending the reception for our classmate. And if I left, trust me, I wasn't coming back. So, I sucked it up and tried to be discreet about rolling my eyes everytime CFL spoke and finally, 30 minutes into the reception, I was able to slip out. Arrrgh.

The rest of the day was kind of a repeat of Saturday, but without "Deadliest Catch." The house is almost habitable again. I did find a new show on Sunday to keep up with, though. "Ice Road Truckers." I didn't think I'd want to watch it, but I tried it out, and I DO. Here's the deal: There are diamond minds in the Northwest Territories of Canada, up near the Arctic Circle. Who knew? Not me. Anyway, 10 months of the year, these mines are cut off from any overland approach. They're socked in by lakes - no road in. But 2 months of the year, the lakes freeze over, and the Canadian government creates an ice road - as in a road on top of the ice - for 18-wheelers, carrying loads in the tens of thousands of pounds, to drive over, carrying supplies to these mines. This show follows a handful of the truckers driving this insane trek. And Suzanne is watching.

Did I mention I need Tivo?

June 21.

It's the first day of summer!

Whatever.

Yeah, yeah, I know - I said how great it was that it's summer because I get to go to the film festival. And it is nice to wear some of the clothes I haven't worn for several months. When I get to go to the lake, that's cool, too.

But really, summer just doesn't have the excitement attached that it did when I was a kid. Remember how great it was when you got finished with that last day of school, and you were off for 3 whole months??? That was awesome.

I don't know what your summers looked like, but mine were filled with going to the pool, and hanging out with friends, and riding my bike. We had a teenage babysitter one summer and ate frozen pizza almost everyday until I didn't want it again for years. I painted the columns on our front porch one year as an assigned chore, and I remember dragging this heavy-ass portable TV out onto the porch so I could watch/listen to reruns of Alice while I toiled. I slept in, went to Astroworld, got a tan (God willing I won't have the melanoma to show for it). One year, MTV showed The Monkeys all summer, and I got obsessed with that - who do I have a crush on - Mike? Peter? Definitely not Mickey. (And yes, I was aware that each of them in real life was my dad's age - I just put that out of my head.) We cleaned a friend's car out one fine summer day, and it led to the first time I caught my hair on fire (yes, it's happened more than once). There were also all the great family vacations - Colorado in the camper. Truly, the good old days.

So, forgive me if I don't really look at summer with the same zeal now that I used to. Somehow, sitting at a desk, working all day, looking out the window at people in their shorts, with their kids, on vacation and out of school, and listening to my teacher friend talk about her two months off, just doesn't conjure up the same excitement I once had.

Oh well. At least I have great memories. Good life. Back to work (sigh)...

Ain't no one gonna do it for you.

One of the adjustments I've had to make since switching jobs is that I'm no longer on a Mac in my work environment. My new employers provide everyone with PCs. I know - it's insanity.

My home computer is my laptop, Big Mac, which I've mentioned here before. I love it. I love having a laptop, and I love having a Mac, so a Mac laptop is like some kind of chocolate-covered strawberry super wonderful kind of computer situation. The only downside of working on my totable wonder, and I mean it, is that the desktop Mac I was on at my previous job had one of those giant screens where I could open two documents side-by-side in normal-sized type with no special jockeying of anything. As an editor, that's vunderbar. But for my personal use, the smaller laptop screen is fine. Getting a screen much larger than the 13" on my laptop would make the computer itself larger, and thus, heavier, so what I have is fine.

Getting used to a PC is less fine, though. I know all you PC users out there think we Mac folks are fanatics, and maybe we are, but Macs are just so much better (that's not subjective, you understand - just a fact). They're so user-friendly. Finding stuff on my PC is a pain in the rear. I keep thinking, "Where's the desktop icon of my hard drive that I can just click on and a whole map of my hard drive will just appear so that I can easily search for what I need?" And then I remember, "Oh yeah. I'm on a PC. I've got to dig around from the Start menu and hope I stumble upon what I need. Great."

(In the unlikely event that my new employer should somehow stumble upon this blog and figure out who I am, even though I carefully avoid ever mentioning anything that might out me or you, let me give this disclaimer: I'm not complaining! Everything about you, your organization, your equipment, your benefits is like a dream come true! I feel like I've entered into Nirvana by getting hired here! Bless you!)

Switching jobs has also necessitated learning a new phone system (I still don't know my own phone number here), a new organization, new editing style (it's the details that bedevil an editor - "Oh, you capitalize that? Well. Okay. I've never capped that, and I don't know anyone who does. But you say we should. So, okay, I guess I will - and I'll try to stop my eye from twitching like that everytime I have to ignore the capping."), and all new people.

It's been several years since I last changed jobs, and I forgot what a big deal it is. You get in a groove somewhere. You know who is who and what is what and where things are and how things work. It's a big deal to change pretty much all of that. I'm doing fine and picking things up, and I hope it won't take long to get into a groove here. But to everyone who has been in one place for a long time, and the thought of starting over somewhere else seems beyond daunting, I can say this: I completely get that feeling. I understand. And you're right that it's a lot to change. But make sure that when you get to the end of your life, you're not looking back and wishing you'd stepped out of that comfortable (or maybe uncomfortable, but known) spot and just given something else a try.

You don't have to change your whole career or life if you're in the right field - maybe just your job. If you DO want to change your career, get on with it. Take a class, or talk to someone who does what you want to do, or just start making a plan. There really is no time like the present, and I promise you, it won't happen unless you make it happen. You might get fired or something and be forced out of where you are, but it's still going to be you that has to take the steering wheel and steer that ship of yours where you want it to go. It's all you. If you don't JUST DO IT, no one else is going to do it for you.

You get one shot at this life. One. Don't waste time. Don't end up looking back with regret. It's awkward to start someplace new. Sometimes you lose some of what you had built up to (vacation time, pay, etc.), but you get on a new path, and that new path can lead you to more than you would've had on the old one. Sacrifice, risk - it's often part of the deal. But ya gotta think long-term. So just do it. Even if it means working on a PC for the forseeable future.

What kind of aliens are you people?

I just read Busy Mom's blog, and she mentions that she doesn't need an alarm to wake up on time. I know two other people with this same bizarre gift, and I just want to know what kind of advanced alien brain you have that you can just SENSE when it's time to wake up and then you can actually do it??

I'm sure I've revealed on here before my love of sleep. I love-a the sleep. I love my bed, and getting in my bed, and snuggling down into my bed to drift off. I love when I wake up in the middle of the night and, after squinting at the clock in the dark, realize I can go back to sleep, preferably for a few more hours. I love the weekends when I know I don't have to get up at any particular hour. The fact that I don't have children to wake me at an ungodly hour on a Saturday almost makes being 38 and childless with no prospects bearable.

I need at least 7 hours to function like someone without a brain injury, and if I could get more like 8.5 or 9, without going to bed while it's still light outside, I would. I like being up in the morning, but only when I wake up on my own. Which brings me to the point I made earlier.

I have no ability whatsoever to wake up at a particular time without the aid of an alarm clock. I think it's possible that the ability to do that may be an evolutionary leap forward. That means that those of you who can do that are mutants. Since my dad is one of those people, I'm happy to report that since I didn't inherit that ability, it means I've returned the gene pool to it's proper mutant-free state. Unless my brother can do it. Maybe he can. It would be just like him...

I'm going to do it. Really I am.

The new job has come with a small bump in pay, but it's enough of a bump that I can actually look into joining the 21st century. I'm going to upgrade on two technological fronts. I'm going to get DSL (yes, that's right Virginia, I'm currently on dial-up), and I'm going to get a DVR.

Actually, the DVR thing isn't set in stone yet. I need to find out how much it would cost me to upgrade my Dish Network receiver to a DVR model. I think I actually own the receiver I have now, which means they'll probably make me pay for a new DVR model, then I'd pay the extra monthly fee for the service. The monthly fee isn't much - less than $10. But I just need to get the details. Of course, I barely have time to watch all the stuff I've already got recorded using my VCR, and I've had a Netflix DVD sitting on my table, waiting to be watched, for a week now. But it's Tivo! (Legal disclaimer: Tivo is a trademark. My actual digital video recording equipment and service will not be provided by Tivo. I will have a Tivo-like recording experience.)

I also need to impose on my mom to come and wait for the AT&T guy when I get my DSL. I know people who just get equipment sent to them and they install their DSL stuff themselves. But those are people who know how to do things. I do not. And I don't wish to screw it up or become enraged with frustration when I can't make it work. So, I'll pay for someone to come install it and get it up and running. Except that I can't take any time off from work yet, so my mom will have to be the one to sit at my house and wait for the guy to show up. So, I can't set up the appointment until she gets some stuff off her plate and can afford to waste a whole day sitting at my house.

So, I guess what I should have said was that I plan, eventually, to make these technological upgrades, but I don't actually know when. Does intent count for anything?

The sequel...

is never as good as the original. (sigh)

"After the Thin Man" was good. It's never a waste of time to watch William Powell and Myrna Loy for an hour and a half. But the sequel to "The Thin Man" was longer on action and shorter on funny dialogue, and I missed the quips and banter. Maybe I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't watched them back-to-back, but I did feel that the first one was the better of the two. Not that I'd refrain from watching any of the rest of them. I've seen some of the other ones and always enjoy myself.

I'm not much interested in the films for the next couple of weeks. They venture into the 70s, which is not a preferred time period for me for movies. There are a few good ones from the 70s (The Godfather and Saturday Night Fever leap to mind), but on the whole, I don't much like that era. Things got a little gritty and dark around then, and I tend to feel sort of depressed or dirty at the end of the "masterpieces" of the time - Chinatown, Cabaret, etc. I prefer leaving the theater feeling better than when I went in - laughing a lot or feeling moved, but not creeped out.

Just thinking about those movies makes me want to go watch a cartoon or pet a kitten. Pleasant thoughts! Sunshine thoughts! Go to the happy place...

*Added later: I forgot to mention one of the best parts of viewing these old movies - the supporting cast! You never know who is going to pop up in one of these old films, just starting out in a career that later ended up huge. I make it a point to read the cast list at the beginning of the movie to see if I should keep an eye out for anyone. Tuesday night, one of the supporting actors was a very young Cesar Romero. Holy Joker, Batman! And last night, it got even better. One of the supporting characters was played by an also very young Jimmy Stewart!

Another of the supporting actors was a woman I kept looking at and thinking I knew her, but I couldn't place her. The face and voice were familiar, but.... Finally it hit me. She played Blondie in the Blondie/Dagwood movies. Penny Singleton was her name, and in the Blondie movies she was, well, blonde, and very innocent and sweet. In "After the Thin Man" she was brunette and a shady dancing girl con-woman (you know how we brunettes are). I hadn't noticed her name in the credits, and I'm guessing I was the only one in the audience who recognized her, though I could be wrong. I'm going to assume the other people in the audience don't have brains filled with bizarre trivia like that, though. I choose to call it a gift.

It's hot.

Zowie. It's hot. I know the calendar says it's spring, but trust me, it's summer.

I kinda knew it was summer just from the fact that it's June. In Texas, summer generally starts in May, so we were on borrowed time with all the mild weather and rain we had through May. But there's no deluding ourselves anymore. The temps are in the mid-90s. My car (which is no longer sheltered in a parking garage) is sweltering when I run errands at lunch. I'm in sleeveless shirts everyday. I sweat if I'm out of the air conditioning for more than a few minutes.

On the upside, summer means the Paramount Summer Classic Film Series! For the first time in probably 10 years, I didn't buy a book of tickets last year. The lineup of films didn't do anything for me last year, and I had a lot going on, and I just didn't go. But it's usually one of the hallmarks of summer for me.

This year, though, I got my book of tickets, and last night, I went to my first classic movie of the year, The Thin Man. I love the Thin Man movies! William Powell and Myrna Loy are hilarious, and the writing is fantastic. If you've never watched any of the movies in the series, you've got to check them out. They're just a scream. Any movie made in 1934 that can still pack a theater in 2007 - well, that oughtta tell you something.

Tonight is "After The Thin Man." I'll be there.

Rye grass

Die, rye grass, die.

I brought you, weed,
into my life,
To stop the HOA
strife.

They're buttheads,
jerks and useless drains
who never use their
tiny brains.

They claimed,
"Your lawn! It is not green!"
There was a drought.
I was not keen.

To shut them up,
I tossed rye seed.
Who knew I'd regret
the simple deed?

Mowing in February
just ain't right.
I pray the summer
will end my plight.

I've heard the heat
will kill rye grass.
I do hope so.
It's a pain in the ass.

There's a reason.

I always hear people scoff when someone orders a fast-food lunch and then asks for a Diet Coke with it.

Yes, there are loads of calories in fast food, and they always say, gee, what's 140 more calories? If you're going to eat like a slug, eat like a slug! But I have to say, 140 calories is 140 calories, and sometimes it's saving the calories in the Coke that let you splurge them on something else. Or vice-versa.

Ever since I had to start watching my weight more carefully (damn this age thing and a slowing metabolism!), I've been much more aware of not only how many calories I take in, but where they come from. I try to periodically track things on FitDay.com so I have a good sense of what the right amount of calories looks like.

It's really opened my eyes about portions, but also how you can nickel and dime yourself into Fat Town. A couple of years ago I found myself with the choice of either cutting back or buying a whole new wardrobe one size bigger. I couldn't see blowing the cash, so I started watching calories.

It's not a "diet." There's no special strategy to it. I just try to watch how much I take in and work out a few times a week. It seems to do the trick. And if I feel like being extravagent on vacation or a holiday or just the weekend, I do what I want then try to be vigilant during the week.

Which brings me to my original point. If I'm on a "try to keep it less than X calories a day" day, and I eat one meal that's going to blow a bunch of my calories, so long as I keep it light for my others that day, I'm still good. But I have to cut somewhere. And an obvious choice is my drink. The 140 calories I save on my lunch drink can be eaten at breakfast. Which would you rather do? Skip breakfast or drink a diet drink at lunch? Me - I'd rather eat the extra meal.

In reverse, if I eat a Lean Cuisine at lunch, I can have a real Coke. The calories I saved with my food just bought me a yummy, full sugar, full caffeine super-wonderful Coke Classic. And if I've stuck to Lean Cuisine and diet drinks all week? Now, I can have the big lunch AND the Coke. And still fit into my clothes. Yeeeeeaahhh.

See? There's a method to the madness. Don't be a hater when someone's at least trying to cut SOME calories. The little stuff adds. up.

Rest in peace.

Sometimes life throws you a curve ball. And it hits you square between the eyes.

I found out last week that someone I know, someone who has been very influential in my professional life, someone who became a friend over years of working together, died. The next day, I found out he'd committed suicide.

This was a great heartbreak. I'm sad that my friend is gone, but far more than that, I'm deeply pained that he was hurting so deeply, so profoundly, and none of us who knew him and saw him almost every day had any idea.

We all knew he was under stress. But so were many of us. We knew his situation was potentially more dire than our own - he had fewer options than many of us if things went badly for him. But this man seemed tough, in an old cowboy, biker, trucker, Johnny Cash kinda way. I couldn't conceive of him just simply splintering one day...quietly and alone. On a Tuesday. It just wasn't possible.

Except it was. And I never saw it coming. And now he's gone. And he's never coming back. Not even for lunch at Hill's Cafe. It is tragedy.

Some people are heartless about suicide. They say the victim is selfish or cowardly. But they're wrong. When someone is willing to take that ultimate step, it is quite simply an act of hopelessness. It is the act of someone hurting with their entire being, who looks ahead and sees nothing but the same. It is the desperation of feeling that even one more day of what is and what lies ahead is just plain unendurable. It is a human being broken. And that should engender sympathy, not scorn. It should cause you to drop to your knees and pray that God will take this broken soul into his care and heal away the hurt, as only He can do. Any one of us can be shattered. Any one of us could find ourselves looking ahead at what seems unbearable.

So I pray for you, my friend. God keep you.