Baptism by fire

The italicized bits scattered throughout this post are from my feed on Twitter. In case you're wondering what the heck that's all about.

My original title for this post was "Sweet Baby Jesus, make it stop." That should tell you how the project is going, huh?

My first of three new hires was to start work Monday at 10 am. She was planning on working a 4-hour shift (which I thought was crazy ambitious--or maybe just crazy) putting labels on books and recording call numbers on a form attached to a clipboard. We'd agreed to this last week, through email.

Last Saturday afternoon the camera card for my rapidly expiring photo ID showed up in the mail. Of course it did. I couldn't go take care of it on Saturday, 'cause by the time I'd get to the place it'd be closed. I decided to run this errand on Monday, after I got the young lady started.

So, Monday. I send out an email to my teammates telling them I needed to run this errand, will be leaving around quarter of 11, yadda, yadda, yadda. No sooner do I hit the send button then I get a message from my worker--can she start work at 11 instead of 10? Sigh. Sure. I rearrange plans, do something in the morning that I was gonna do in the afternoon, and I meet her at the reception desk at 11.

So far, so good. I take her back to where I have things set up, give her a packet with her name on it, explain what's in it, show her where to pick up and drop off things, and give her a set of the instructions I wrote the week before. I tell her to take a seat and read the instructions, as I don't want her to go all the way out into the stacks only to have to come right back because she doesn't understand what she's supposed to do.

I want to say right here that I ran these instructions past 2 people: one for basic proof-reading and sense, the other for accuracy. They came back with a thumbs up, so I'm confident they are clear.

I don't want to make her nervous by standing over her while she reads, so I go off and do something for a few minutes. When I come back, she's flipping the paper over and over like she's finished with it. She asks me about proper placement of the barcode, to make sure she understands where it goes. I confirm that she is right, ask if she has other questions. Nope. We're good. And away she goes into the stacks. I feel like I'm on a pier waving goodbye to a ship.

jugglingscarves First employee has arrived, been instructed, given supplies, and sent off into the stacks. Project has officially started. *fistpump*

Not five minutes later she's back. With a question about something that was very well-covered on the instructions. There was a graphic and everything. So I answer that question (though what I wanted to say was "read the instructions again."), and off she goes into the stacks again. I wait to see if she'll come back. She doesn't, so I head out to the bus stop.

As I sit on a bench at the stop, I'm beginning to wonder if she actually understood what I said. So I go back into the building to double check -- she's not where she's supposed to be in the stacks. Hmm. Maybe she had another question and is looking for me in the work room? Nope. The packet I gave her is back in its slot, her backpack (which we put in my desk drawer) is gone. And there's a note that says she left early (it doesn't say how early) because of a meeting she forgot she had.

jugglingscarves Aaand she left already. Not a good start.

I got my errand done in surprisingly good time by the way. There were only 4 of us at the DMV, and 2 of the people there were already leaving by the time I sat down.

This morning at the bus stop I resolve to salvage this situation. Maybe she really did have a meeting. I have to remember that she's a student, and her primary focus is not my project. And maybe she's an aural learner, or a learn-by-doing kind of person.

jugglingscarves Declaring a do-over re: yesterday's new hire. Going to take her by the hand & show her what to do.

Unless she's already written off this job as a bad idea.

jugglingscarves If she hasn't already quit via email, that is.

At work I check my email, and I see nothing from her. Okay, so I should expect her. 10 o'clock comes. And goes. No employee. 10:30. Nope. All right, maybe the "can I start at 11" thing was a permanent switch? She actually hasn't been very clear about when I'm to expect her. I go to our faculty member's office and tell him what's been going on. He gets a good laugh or two out of it. "And that," he says, "is why I'm glad I don't supervise anyone."

jugglingscarves Yesterday's new hire is a no-show today. No email, either. I'm somewhere between irritated and relieved.

11 o'clock comes. And goes. At 11:30 I show my faculty person a print-out of an email I'm about to send, prefacing it with the question, "Is this a polite enough way to say where the heck are you?" He says it's very tactful. In the email I tell her I'm writing up a schedule of all the project team's hours and I'm posting it in the work space, but I'm a bit unclear about her hours. Would she please clarify for me when she plans to work? Day and time, please.

Someone following my tweets replies to my last one by writing: "I can't imagine getting a job and then not showing up...who does that?!"

jugglingscarves @[deleted]Well, maybe someone who left 3 hrs and 15 minutes early on the first day. I just sent an email to see if she still works 4 me.

jugglingscarves @[deleted] The shift? Was 4 hours long. Related: I officially hate supervising.

To which my friend replied: "Oh gee, that's too much!"

jugglingscarves @[deleted] She left a note on my desk saying she left early (after we pushed back the start time an hour) because of a meeting she forgot.

jugglingscarves @[deleted] Perhaps she just had a horrible Monday. Or perhaps I'm giving her too much benefit of the doubt.

By 2:30, I still haven't heard from her and I have no idea how to proceed. My own supervisor is out for the next two months (which is why this got farmed out to me), and the only other person I can think of to ask for direction is her boss, our department head. Thank goodness the woman is approachable. I explain the situation, show her the email I sent, and ask what to do next. She said to give the young woman to the end of the day and then call her. Tell her (or her voicemail, which is what we both think I'll probably get) that if she's not here by ten tomorrow and I haven't received a call from her, that she doesn't work here any more.

Whew. Allrightythen.

In the meantime, I have another new hire to train. Having learned from the day before, I decide I'm gonna do like they do in the army: say what I am going to say, then say it, then say what I said. In other words, I will summarize the instructions, send her off to read them, then take her to the stacks and do a couple volumes with her.

This may or may not be relevant, but this other woman is older, and not a student. Both of these people are already employees of the library, see, and I'd worked near both of them at one time or another. I'd observed them both working and had thought both would suit for this job. Never checked with the first person's current supervisor, though. This is a mistake I will not make again. I spoke to someone who was visiting in my department today, someone who worked with my AWOL employee, and she said basically that a) when she heard this person was going to be barcoding, she'd hoped it wasn't beyond her abilities; and b) she was a nice kid, but she did have a problem with showing up consistently. To which my response was, "And she still works for you guys because?"

jugglingscarves Obvious supervisor lesson #1: no matter what I think I know, check references. Turns out she has trouble with showing up regularly. Awesome

A little bit later someone else I follow tweeted me, saying: "sorry ur having rough go at being supervisor. Hope it makes u feel better to know I am thoroughly enjoying ur tweets today."

jugglingscarves @[deleted] Well, as long as someone's getting something out today. I'll call that a partial win. :)

jugglingscarves @[deleted] out *of* today, I meant. Off I go to go train another new hire! (Tweeted this before but Brizzly ate it)

And she responded: "totally am. Eek! to clarify: not at your expense (!!!) but from your creative play-by-plays"

jugglingscarves @[deleted] Flattery will get you everywhere. This 2nd one went better. Learning from my mistakes. Summarize the instructions ...

jugglingscarves @[deleted]... have them read them, then take 'em out demonstrate what I want. This one's a keeper. I think I scared off the other one. :(

Shortly before 5, after an entire day of radio silence from this person, I fired up Word and started to type up a script for myself: what to do if I get her on the phone, what to say to her voicemail. I didn't want to stumble or sound indecisive. I didn't want to be rude, either--another reason to choose my words beforehand. First thing is to say I was expecting her today. Is she all right (she could've gotten sick. That negates all of this. Then it's a simple matter of call-me-when-you're-better)? If she's all right, good. Did she get my email? Explain what my email was about if she didn't read it yet. Ask if she'll be in tomorrow, and at what time. If she later finds that she cannot come, she needs to tell me. I don't need to know why, just that she's not coming. And if we have another day like today, where she doesn't come and doesn't contact me, then I'll assume she no longer wants this job and I will make other arrangements.

Voicemail option? Similar. Only variation is that I need her to show up or contact me tomorrow by 11. I'd originally said 10, but then realized I was going to be at another location from 9-11, so I moved it back to 11.

While I was writing this up, the department head came by to see if I'd called yet. I told her what I was doing. She said she did that too sometimes with phone calls. It's helps you focus and not stumble. Did I want her to stay while I made this call? For moral support? I said, no, I really didn't want anyone witnessing me being a bitch. She laughed, and said, "You don't have to be mean, just firm." That's what I was trying for, I said. In my head I asked myself: Did I just say "bitch" in front of my boss's boss? Yes, I believe I did. Luckily it doesn't seem to bother her.

And so I called. Got her voicemail. Left a message that was polite but firm, and told her that in any event she should make sure she records the time she worked on this project so that she gets paid for it. (Internal snark: yeah, all 45 minutes of it).

jugglingscarves Just left serious do-you-want-to-work-here-you'd-better-call-me message on my AWOL employee's voicemail. She has until 11 tomorrow morning

She'll either call, email, show up, or ignore me altogether. In any event, I know what to do next.

Boy howdy, I sure don't like this supervising thing. On a positive note, the other woman seems to have caught right on. Third person starts Thursday. Here's hoping for 2 out of 3 are keepers!

Edited 3/31 to add: And apparently threats work. She emailed me at 5 minutes after midnight this morning, apologizing for not showing up. She was attending a job fair (that she probably knew about weeks ahead of time, I might add), and she is attending another one today. And she gave me definite start and end times for every day she plans to work (Hallelujah!). She seemed to think she was going to be working this weekend, but that ain't gonna fly. I'd like to be confident that she knows what she's doing before I let her loose in the stacks on a weekend with no one around to answer questions for her. So I emailed her back suggesting we just start over fresh next Tuesday. And I told her that from now on, if she isn't going to show up for a shift I need to be contacted prior to the start of that shift. I need to know whether to expect her or not. She sent me an email back agreeing to this, promising to be there on Tuesday.

Wish us luck. I think we're both going to need it.

Hire #2 continues to be wonderful, bless 'er, and Hire #3 starts tomorrow morning. Man, I hope he works out. I don't think I can take having to chase around someone else.

Checking in

Hello. Yes, I am still here. Still having a problem focusing. It's been a busy few weeks at work, and when I get home all I want to do is goof off.

I got thrown for a loop this past Wednesday. I was talking to my team mate, glanced up, and saw my supervisor headed down the aisle looking right at me. She gave me the universal signal for "come here" (index finger: bend/straighten/repeat).

"Uh-oh," I said to Bess. "I'm getting The Finger. Gotta go."

We went to her office, she shut the door (uh-oh again), and then she told me the project I've been working on for about 2 1/2 years has just been expanded, and I'm going to have three part-time folks to help me. Here's the kicker -- I'm supervising them! She gave me the applications (I knew there was a call going out for help with this project, but I didn't know it had been expanded), told me to pick some, interview 'em, and hire three. She's going to get me set up for the program that we use to keep track of the part-timers' hours, and we're going to start as soon as possible.

Oh, and over the summer? She wants a "whole crew," whatever that means. So I have three people to supervise to start with and then I'm getting more.

Don't mind me, I'll just be over here in the corner having a panic attack.

I don't want to supervise. I don't mind training people, I just don't wanna be The Boss Lady. I have no choice, though, so after a couple hours of what I've been calling "booga-booga freak-out" mode, I sat down and came up with a plan of attack. Since then I've been interviewing, hiring, writing up instructions, gathering supplies, setting up a work space (more of a pick-up and drop-off center), giving people gentle nudges to get me the things I need so that I actually have something for these three to do when they show up for work.

I told my Mom, she's thrilled. And I heard from my sister who, after three weeks in her new position, has been drafted as a trainer to help out with something. Three weeks, and she's made enough of an impression on them that they want her to teach other people. My Mom is so proud of her kids right now, she could burst.

So could I, but not from pride. Part of the reason I've never sought a management position is that I'm afraid of what I'd do if given power. The little rational voice in the back of my head says I'd be a good supervisor precisely because I'm afraid of turning into a tyrant. And goodness knows, I've seen plenty of those to know how not to behave. I hope.

In life list news, I don't know if you noticed the new gadget on the sidebar. it's from LibraryThing. In an effort to get through #4 (Read every book I own) I've started to catalog them. (Ugh. Library people. Go on. Roll your eyes. It's OK.) Can't know if I've read everything if I don't know what I have, right? Right.

Until just about 1/2 an hour ago, the book in my "Currently reading" box was Zombies of the Gene Pool, by Sharyn McCrumb. It's a murder mystery that happens at a science fiction writers' reunion party. Next up: Fox Evil, by Minette Walters. Then maybe I'll read the one about Eleanor of Aquitaine. Or something by Garrison Keillor. Or maybe I'll finally read Slaves of New York, which I've had so long that I don't remember where I got it.

Or maybe I'll try to figure out how to use the camera on my new phone. I bought a BlackBerry, gang. Yup. With a touchscreen. The fella who helped me at the Verizon store yesterday looked up my account and said, "Wow! You've been eligible for an upgrade since 2005!" Yeah, well, it ain't broke so...but now it is. Poor old thing is dying. Can't pull down a signal without using most of the battery. I've been using it as my alarm clock for two years now (because I can't find where I packed the alarm clock. It's in here somewhere!), and that's really about all it's good for any more. So I adjusted my voice and text plan (I very rarely talk on my cell. Last month I used one minute, and that was to check a voicemail. And I think that's the first time I used it to call anyone all year so far), added on the data package, and I'm only paying about $10 more a month than I used to.

And? I have a fancy-schmancy phone. With wi-fi. And email. Squeee! And a camera! I've been feeling a bit lost without my camera. Only two more weeks until I can collect it from my folks.

Added two more things to the life list:

56. View the Perseid Meteor Shower from a really good vantage point. (Arizona desert? Pennsylvania's Black Forest (a night sky preserve)? Not sure yet.)
57. Go kite-flying.

And I refined #54 a bit:

54. See 1000 independent/foreign/art-house films.

Because the other was just too easy. Already seen one: 24-Hour Party People, about the music scene in Manchester in the 1980s. Very interesting to see where the songs I grew up with in the 80s came from. One movie down, 999 to go!

Psst. Bunny alert! Nibbling on the grass outside the window in the computer lab where I am right now. Look!



Thank you, BlackBerry!

Braaaaaains!

I'd like to say that I've spent the week horribly busy working on my life list. You know, getting those projects done, signing up for guitar lessons, learning French, arm-twisting my Mom into getting a passport for a trip to a country she thinks hates her, buying and consuming a wide variety of fruit...

Yeah. I'd like to say that. What really happened? I saw Alice in Wonderland last weekend, in 3-D. I liked it a lot, except for the last ten minutes. But then, any return to The Real World from Wonderland was bound to be a let-down, right? I did my taxes, filing them online for the first time (what was I fighting? I'm getting me refund Tuesday. Freaking Tuesday! Booyah!). I wrote my piece of my performance review for work. I called my Mom to see how her doctor's appointment went. Oh, and I ate a plum. A black plum. And a MacIntosh apple. And a navel orange. Oh! And some red seedless grapes. 4 down, 996 to go!

The rest of the week I wasted with a computer game I bought a few weeks ago called "Plants vs. Zombies." Sweet Mother of Pearl, is that addictive! The premise is simple: you're being attacked by zombies, and your plants are there to defend you. They shoot things, like peas, spores, cactus needles, cabbages, corn (interspersed with big gobs of butter, that momentarily stop the zombies). The squash? Squashes. The cherries explode (a la cherry bombs). So do the jalapeños. Once you get to the end of the adventure part of the game, all sorts of other game modes get unlocked.

If you have some time to kill, go play with the demo. ** I warn you though, playing the demo made me want to download the free trial. Once I got to the last level available for the trial, I dragged out my credit card to pay $20 for the full version. I'd say I've gotten my money's worth.

But I'm not gonna play it tonight. No. No! I have stuff to do. Laundry, dishes, projects, I cannot spend any more time with the plants and the zombies.

"Zombies .... are coming!"

Must....not....click....icon!

You know what? The first night I played it, I was so enamored of it I dreamed about it that night. And the next day? I played better.

In other news, I did venture out of the house on the rainiest, most blustery day so far this year to attend the Home Show out at the indoor sports arena on campus. Got a few ideas. And probably a cold. Then I went to Petsmart, because a local no-kill animal shelter was bringing in cats that were available for adoption.

No. Not ready to bring home a new cat just yet. I just really, really needed to touch one. Hung around talking to the woman who runs the shelter--out of her home. She had started as a volunteer for another no-kill shelter, catching feral cats and trying to gentle them. She was keeping them at her place for the other organization, at their request, and when new management took over they pretended she and her 20+ foster cats were not their problem. So she went registered herself as non-profit and started her own shelter.

I'm glad she's not affiliated with them. I don't think I'd ever adopt a pet from them. Though if I had one that needed a home (like those two kittens I found a couple years ago) I'd try to get this organization to take it, and probably for the same reason. They act like they're the animal's equivalent to the Office of Children and Youth. They keep tabs on the pet, you have to bring it back to them periodically for them to check that it's still all right, they contact your vet to make sure you're taking the pet for regular check-ups, and they reserve the right to swoop down and take the animal back at any time.

I see some of the reasoning behind that, it's to protect the animal. There's a line between protective and possessive though, and I think they're dangerously close to it. I don't like having my privacy invaded, so I won't be adopting anyone from there. This other woman seems to be much more laid-back. She gave me her card for when I'm ready to bring someone home.

Okay, that's it for now. Those dishes aren't going to do themselves.

**I am not a paid spokesperson. Just a fan of really good computer games.

Life list: week 1

So not even 24 hours after I posted the first half of my life list, I got a comment from the marketing director of the Stratford Festival. Did you see that? It stunned me.

I emailed her and told her that I have no idea when this is going to happen--I don't even know if my mother will agree to go--and I asked if there was any expiration date on the offer. She said no, just keep her address on file and use it when I'm ready.

I talked to Mom about it. She is, as I thought she would be, hesitant. It's based on a bad reaction to the way she was treated by some docent in a museum in Toronto back in the seventies. Woman made some comment about how the whole Nixon/Watergate thing would have never happened up there.

"Mom? That was, um, forty years ago."

"Well, there have been other things."

"Like what?"

"On the news."

"Like what?"

She didn't say anything. I still don't know quite what she's talking about, but then I don't read, watch, or listen to much news. The news industry's main objective as far as I can tell is to scare their audience. Scare them so badly that they'll need to come back again, to see what else they should be scared of. Either that or make them angry. Or both. No thanks.

"I just to don't want to spend my money somewhere that I'm not welcome."

"Mom, I've been in Toronto and Stratford a number of times, and I've never felt unwelcome. And not just because I'm spending money. They're polite, they're friendly, they're interested in strangers. At least, all the people I've met were."

Tell you what, if I do get her up there, we're not going anywhere near whatever museum that was. She told me, I can't remember. Something House. Yeah, that's helpful. And I want to say it had to do with government, which is why Nixon got mentioned. Mackenzie House?

I just looked up Mackenzie house. Vaguely to do with government, more to do with history and a Scotsman, it sounds like a place Mom would want to go visit.

Anyway.

And then JustMe sent me a bunch of stuff on weaving and spinning guilds in my area. Did I say thank-you yet, JM? I meant to. Some of my friends who knit also spin. I'm going to follow up with them about where they learned, is this local guild still active, things like that.

And then she sent me a recipe for tomato gravy that sounds pretty good. Thank you for that too. Gonna try that sometime soon. What I meant by "from scratch" was "from all fresh ingredients," and I think I can adapt this one. When I was looking around for what to do with my CSA tomatoes last year, I couldn't find a sauce recipe that used fresh ripe tomatoes, or didn't have tomato paste (or, in one case tomato sauce) listed as an ingredient. Yes. Tomato sauce as an ingredient to make tomato sauce. I'm not naming names (but it rhymes with Nettie Docker), but some of those old stand-by name-trademarked cookbooks are no help at all. I gave up and decided to stew them instead.

I think I need to get myself a copy of the Ball Canning Book. I'm probably going to need it anyway, if I really am planning to use everything I get from the CSA this year. Mom told me there's a simple tomato sauce recipe in there. I could try that one too.

And I've started on the 1000 fruits list. I decided that different varieties of the same fruit count as different fruits. Concord grapes don't have the same taste, color, or texture as seedless green Thomspon grapes, do they? So, different fruits. I've bought Pink Lady apples, some bananas, and a Korean butter pear. I'm going to try the butter pear tomorrow, but as I have no camera I can't show you what it looks like. I'll have a do-over after Easter and take pictures. Until then, I'll try to stick to the more common fruits.

I tell you what, though, just the idea of trying 1000 different fruits has made me pay more attention in the produce section. I didn't know Wegman's had prickly pears. Or kumquats. Or star fruit. There's three more that need to wait for the camera before I try 'em.

I'm gonna look into how much guitar lessons are. Someone in town who I know slightly (through Twitter) just mentioned he's about to start lessons, once he finds a good, patient teacher. We local Tweeters are getting together for lunch next Friday. I'll have to ask him how his search is going, and if he can give me a recommendation.

And now I need to go work on one of my many, many unfinished projects. I think tonight it's knitting.

Oh! And tomorrow? I'm going to go see "Alice in Wonderland" with some more friends from Twitter.

I added a few more things to the list, by the way:

51. Attend a Renaissance Faire. In costume. (Really need to get that "confident seamstress" thing going, don't I?)
52. Own and wear (on a regular basis) a black leather biker jacket.
53. Visit the farm in New Zealand where Hobbiton was built for The Lord of the Rings movies.
54. Watch 1000 movies. (Yeah, like that'll be hard. Maybe it should be "watch 1000 movies and then never watch another one.")

For the fruit and the movie thing, I'm not counting things I've already done. I've eaten a banana before, but I'm not counting it until I eat the one for my list. As for movies, I'm not going to count things I've already seen, even if I see it again. Ever. So maybe it should be:

54. Watch 1000 new (to me) movies.

I think this will finally get me to clear out my DVR queue and get through my Netflix list. I have a habit of collecting the names of movies that I want to watch, but then never seeing them. I've had the same two Netflix discs for months now. And my DVR is over half full. So maybe this is a challenge after all.

55. Make a pie from fruit I picked myself.

And now it's ten-thirty, too late to work on a project. I'm starting to get droopy.

Good night, everybody.

Ambitious undertaking

Okay, here's what I've been doing.

Almost two years ago, Maggie Mason (Mighty Girl--my bloggy hero) wrote up a list of 100 things she wants to do before she goes. She called it her Mighty Life List. I like that. I like it a whole lot more than calling it a "bucket list," which is what people tend to say when I start to describe it. Now that she has it written out, she's working her way through it. She often urges anyone (everyone) to make a list of their own. She calls it "transformative."

I thought of doing something like that, but I didn't think I had nearly enough things I wanted to do to make a whole long list of them. Last Thursday, after reading her post about a conference she just attended, and how her roommate started to write her own Mighty List right there in their room, I decided what the heck? Let's see what I can come up with. So I grabbed a piece of scratch paper and started writing things down--things I've said I wanted to do, things I've looked at and admired, wistful vague wishes, things I thought I should do...anything I could remember. Before I knew it, I had twenty. And I wasn't done. The more I write, the more things pop up. I don't have a hundred, but I do have a lot. Here's what I have so far, in the order that they occurred to me:

1. Go on on Alaskan cruise.
2. Have Mom teach me how to make grape jelly.
   
3. Dye my hair red.
4. Read every book I own.
5. Learn to spin yarn.
6. Learn to weave (maybe with the yarn I just learned to spin).
7. Make spaghetti sauce from scratch.
8. Take guitar lessons.
9. Make my home look the way I see it in my head.
10. Read Les Miserables in the original French.
11. Learn French (this should probably be switched with #10).
12. Knit a sweater.
13. Become a more confident seamstress.
14. Get my weight under control.
15. After I do #13 and #14-- make a quilt out of my "fat clothes."
16. See the Grand Canyon.
17. Learn how to apply make-up correctly.
18. Have a pint at The Eagle and Child in Oxford.
19. Ride a San Francisco cable car.
20. Taste 1000 fruits (shamelessly lifted from Maggie's list).
21. Learn to drive.
22. Become dog-owned.
23. See Stonehenge.
24. Find my friend Suzanne's grave and lay flowers on it.
25. Learn Gaelic.
26. Take a yoga class.
    
27. Use every single thing I receive in my CSA crates.
28. Make that storage room I've been calling a craft room into a real craft room.
29. Design a blog of my own instead of using a canned theme from Blogger.
30. Take a cross-country train trip.
31. Stand on the glass floor at the top of the CN tower in Toronto and look down between my feet.
32. Take Mom to the Stratford Festival of Canada.
33. Attend a Blogher conference.
34. Go fishing with my Dad.
35. Finish all of the half-done projects I have lying around.
36. Get all my finished embroidery framed.
37. Handmade Christmas (everyone on my list gets a handmade Christmas present from me one year).
38. Visit Edinburgh.
39. Walk home from work for one solid month, regardless of weather conditions (scrawled in different ink: except lightning!).
40. Pay my respects at the grave of Jane Austen.
41. Go Christmas caroling with my sister.
42. Grow tomatoes.
43. Write a novel.
44. Join a choir again.
45. Make a calendar using 12 photos I took myself, and distribute this calendar as a present.
46. Learn to tango.
47. See the Mona Lisa.
48. Buy and decorate my own Christmas tree.
49. Wade in the Pacific Ocean.
50. Take a tai chi class.

That's 50! I found fifty in under a week! I know I'm not done. This list is supposed to be an in-process list, 'cause if you stay interested in what's going on around you, you're going to find more that you want to do. Right? Right.

As I was compiling, you know what I figured out? I started working from this list a while ago, before I thought to write things down. Here are some things that I could put in the "done" column already:

1. Take bellydance lessons.
2. Learn to use a potter's wheel.
3. Buy a home of my own.
4. See Kansas.
5. Visit the Bata Shoe Museum in Toronto.
6. Take drawing lessons.
7. Learn to fix a toilet.
8. Organize a "NASCAR experience" birthday present for my Dad from my family.
9. Organize tickets for Cirque du Soleil as a birthday present for my Mom from my family.
10. Get published.

Okay, lemme 'splain that last one. Yes. I've been published. It was an article that is completely not my field, a piece I co-authored with a friend of mine who was a PhD candidate at the time (she has the degree now). We'd done a presentation together at a conference and afterward someone suggested we write an article. We did. It didn't get accepted for the publication we'd been suggested to try, but another one liked it and bam! Published. And a good thing, too, after all the work we put into it.

All right. Off I go to see if I can think up some more, and to start figuring out how to do what I've put on here so far. Wish me luck! #33 is already booked and paid for, so that's progress right there.

P.S. to my sister. Any of these you wanna join me in doing, feel free. I mean, just 'cause I said I want to go fishing with Dad doesn't mean you can't come too. Y'know?

Still here

I know it's been at least a week since I posted. Sorry. I'm working on something right now, and it's taking me a while. As soon as I finish I'll show it to you.

It's not nearly as exciting as it sounds.

Also, I got sucked into "The Tudors" a few weeks back, just found out that all three seasons are available for viewing On Demand by my cable provider--they do this from time to time for people like me who studiously avoid shows for three years at a go and then suddenly fall in love with them. Season 4 starts next month sometime and I want to catch up. I hate walking into something in the middle. So all this weekend when I haven't been working on this other thing I've been watching Jonathan Rhys Meyers portray Henry Tudor. I've gotten as far as the end of Season 2--Anne Boleyn just got beheaded.

I wonder if they're going to continue this series past Henry? I'd like to see them tackle Mary's reign, and maybe do something closer to the truth about Elizabeth's than the two Cate Blanchett movies got. Those movies were all right, but Hollywood and history don't ever mix very well.

Okay, time to get dressed and ready for work.

Hey guess what, gang! It's March! Spring is coming! Yaaaaay!

Holy crap, I'm going to BlogHer '10!

Over Christmas I mentioned in passing that it might be nice to go to a BlogHer conference, now that my sister is blogging and has friends in the blogosphere as well. We could go together. She agreed, wondered briefly where is was going to be this year. So far they've been in either the western or southwestern U.S.,which makes things cost-prohibitive for both of us. She then said it would depend on whether she had the money, and the conversation moved on to something else.

Fast forward two months to the day before yesterday. I checked an email account I tend to forget I have (on AOL) to find a message from Ditter with a subject line of "Blogher 2010." The message read simply,

NYC?!

I checked the BlogHer website. The conference is at the beginning of August, a few days after my birthday. Early bird discounts are still in effect until the end of February. It's at the Hilton, on the Avenue of Americas, and BlogHer has a block of rooms reserved at a discounted rate, first come, first served. I emailed all this to Ditter, who checked with the hubby to see if finances are such that she can swing this. Guess what! She can! Just a few moments ago, I booked a double room at the Hilton for Aug. 5-Aug.8, bought myself a full-conference pass, and am now contemplating making little business cards (using Moo 'cause it works with Flickr) in case I meet people I want to talk to later.

Eeeee! I'm going to BlogHer 2010! Who's with me?

Now that's more like it!

I've been grumbling for weeks that if it's gonna be cold, it should at least snow. I finally got my wish. Now if I only had my camera.

It looks like we're gonna get more. I can't find anything online to say how much we have already, but maybe I just don't know where to look. Pretty sure I'd be knee-deep in it if I tried to walk around out there.

Actually, I just checked my twitter account and someone did go out with a yardstick. Ten inches. Woo!

Looks like a good crafting-by-the-window day. Off I go to figure out which I'm going to do, embroidery or knitting.

Channeling Aunt Ida

I am rapidly turning into somebody's maiden great-aunt. Okay maybe not maiden, but I'm definitely spinster material.

I have been spending the past couple of days wondering what's going on in the unit next door, and whether they are as worried by that faint whooshing sound as I am; and if not, why not? I think they've got a problem with their water. It's running all the time. At least I think that's what the sound is.

And it's definitely coming from over there, not over here. There's a very different sort of sound when the water's in use over here (when the washing machine is going, say, or one of the toilets is filling up). I think it's coming from their kitchen (and yes, I've been putting my ear to the wall in various places in an attempt to pinpoint the source. Pathetic). Or it could be a running toilet, for all I know. I'm just worried they're going to have a huge water bill sometime soon.

See what I mean? When did I start giving a monkey's about the neighbors' water consumption? If they can't sort out a broken toilet without a slight goose from their water bill, is that any of my concern? Next thing you know, I'll be watching the parking lot through a centimeter wide gap in the curtains, waiting for someone who doesn't belong here to park in one of the numbered spots, just so I can chase them away. And give them a good tongue-lashing, while I'm at it.

That is turning into a problem around here (parking, not crazy women running screaming from their houses). I guess one of the boys in the other end unit has a girlfriend who sometimes spends the night, and she either doesn't know or doesn't care about the parking rules, which are: each unit has one space associated with it. That space bears the same number as the unit to which it belongs. If you're visiting that unit and the space is empty, take it. If it's occupied, go park in one of the many unnumbered spaces scattered about the lot. DO NOT park in another numbered space.

I generally don't care if someone parks in my spot, since I have no car. It would be rather dog-in-the-manger of me to demand people leave my space empty, since I so rarely need it and this lot sometimes gets really full. Problem is, folks are starting to act like it's an unnumbered space. There have been times I needed it and it was occupied. Ticked me off a little. When my sister was visiting in July, I set chairs in my space to make sure no one pulled into it before she got here. My roots were showing--I later told someone that I did that, and she told me that's how they do it in South Philly. That's where my Mom's side of the family was from originally.

By the way, the woman I mentioned in the title? Aunt Ida? She was my Mom's aunt. One of the Philadelphia contingent, unmarried, and during my mom's and my childhood she was a bit strict and sour. I thought she mellowed as she and I got older, but once I hit college (long after she'd gone to glory) I realized that "mellowing" was probably senility or Alzheimer's disease. She was turning back into the fun-loving flapper she'd been in her youth.

And for some reason, that brings to mind the "long-term care" insurance plan I just started paying into. John Hancock Insurance just started offering it to all the university's full-time employees this past November, and if we enrolled right then we were guaranteed acceptance without a physical. I looked through the literature, and while it seems a little expensive for the benefits I want ($11o a month), that rate is guaranteed not to go up, and it takes price inflation into account. I guess they compound interest or something. I had this vision of my sister, her husband, and their future children (whoever they may be) sitting around the kitchen table in 40 years talking about What to Do About Auntie Vee. Yeah. No. Let's not put people through that.

I guess what connects Aunt Ida and the long-term care insurance in my mind is that I think there was a similar discussion about Aunt Ida, once my mom and aunt realized she couldn't live on her own any more. They had her put in a home. We would come get her for holiday dinners, and Mom and my aunt would visit from time to time, but she was pretty much on her own otherwise. I don't know where the money came from to pay for the place, if Medicare took care of it, if she had funds of her own or a pension or something. It was all happening way over my head at the time. I was at an age where I didn't concern myself with things like, "how is Aunt Ida paying for her room at the home?"

I think the next time I talk to my Mom, I may just have to ask her that.

In other news, it's been over a month without the cat. I hope the fact that I've gotten a little squirrelly lately has less to do with grief and having no one to talk to but myself (and I do. A lot. Worrying) and more to do with the fact that it's February now and brutally cold. I'm longing for spring in a way I've never done before. I think it has to do with the garden. I want to go play in it and plant stuff. I have all sorts of plans and ideas. One of them involves extending the flower bed a little farther (further?) down the side of the house, sticking a wire thing that looks like an obelisk into the bed and training morning glories or clematis up the sides of it. Or maybe a climbing rose. And I might try to grow some tomatoes. It might work, I think there's enough sun. If I can get sunflowers to grow over there, I should be able to grow tomatoes, right? Oh, so many things I want to do, and so little space to do 'em in!

Well, I think this has rambled on long enough. It looks like it's just about bed time. 'Night y'all.

Pinball Wizard sea chanty?

Found this through the Coverville blog. Ukelele Orchestra of Great Britain doing "Pinball Wizard," but without ukeleles:



Went off to go look through some more of their stuff on YouTube and found this, from the same concert:



You know, I never realized how much I liked Taking Heads until recently.

And then I found this:



Man, they have something for everybody, don't they?

Cantaloupe without ...

Came home last night to find a ladder lying beside my house. I walked by first without it registering and then went back and looked again. 8 feet long. Like a painter's ladder. You know what I mean? Looks like a capital letter "A" when open, with a little tray to hold stuff towards the top.

What the heck? What's it doing here? Landscapers doing something? Maybe someone was trimming the pine tree and forgot to put all their equipment back on the truck. Though the pine tree doesn't look trimmed to me...

I asked one of my neighbors. She hadn't noticed anything. I thought maybe I should move it, then changed my mind. Maybe they'll come back for it.

And maybe in the middle of the night they'll climb onto the roof of your shed and break into your house through the bedroom window.

Oh, stop it. That's just stupid.

Stranger things have happened. Remember last October? Someone walked right into your cubicle and took $60 out of your wallet. Which was in your purse. Room full of people, no one saw a thing. You were away from your desk maybe 15 minutes. Economy sucks, people are desperate, turning to theft.

Yeah but, no but...hmm.

There's never a car in your parking spot, most of the drapes are the thermal, black-out kind so you can't see the light on when you're in the room. It might look to anyone casing the place like you're never home.

Awesome. Thanks, italicized little voice. How the hell am I supposed to sleep now?

Just doing my job, ma'am.

Well, it took a while but I did manage to get some sleep. Today I called the people who administer for our owners' association in the hopes that they'd be able to say yes, there is some maintenance being done over here. They checked. There isn't.

So I sit in my cubicle, getting more and more nervous. Really not liking that there's a ladder next to my house. And, feeling a little silly about it, I use vacation time and leave work early to check on things. The whole way home I'm hoping that a) the ladder's not there any more because whoever used it remembered where they left it (and not because they burgled my house) or b) ladder is in exactly the same position as yesterday 'cause whoever used it really has forgotten it.

It was still here. I picked it up and wrestled in into my shed. Locked it in. I'm going to put the word out around the complex about what I found. Unless someone comes to the door asking for it, I guess I'm now the proud owner of an 8' painter's ladder.

Then I checked the whole house to see if anything was missing or out of place (hard to do when you're untidy, I know, but my memory's pretty good), and tested every single window to make sure they were all still locked. Just in case.

Kitchen experimentation

I'd like to show you the result of my turkey soup experiment last weekend. Can't. Camera is a 2-hour drive away, and my cell phone is ancient technology -- it's from 2001 -- and has no camera attached to it. I'm going to have to make do with description.

Luckily, I can do that.

So how'd it go? The short answer is: Next time, more seasoning, less pasta.

All the recipes I found on the web were very explicit about what herbs should go in the stock, but then when it came to making the soup it was all, "Eh, just throw some herbs in."

So I put in the same things I used in the stock--bay leaves, thyme, oregano, basil, tarragon, peppercorns -- these last I put in a tea ball and attached to the side of the pot. When my mother makes soup she just tosses them in and leaves them there. This makes eating soup a lot like walking in a minefield. Those little buggers like to hide in the vegetables, so there's always a risk of CHOMP=OW! Then I sprinkled a little poultry seasoning in. Not sure of measurements and not wanting to be overpowered by seasoning, I just used sprinkles of this and pinches of that.

Then I tossed in about a cup of orzo, about half the box. I thought it looked so cute in the store, like little grains of rice.

I set things to simmer, knowing it would take a while because the carrots had to cook all the way through. Did I mention the veggies I put in? No, I can see now that I didn't. Carrots, celery, onion, minced garlic, and then from the CSA stash: green beans, wax beans, kale. I also put in some of the stewed tomatoes I made last summer and a can of creamed corn. Oh, and I also put in all the leftover turkey meat, shredded into bite-size bits.

So anyway, I check an hour later. Stirring the pot a bit, I'm surprised that I don't see much of the orzo. So I dump in the other half of the box, stir, put the lid back on the pot, and wait another hour or so.

Can you see where this is going? And can you spot what I missed in the seasoning?

When the soup only had about half an hour to go, I popped open a tube of dough and made some biscuits. Got my timing just right on that one. Biscuits came out and were on the racks just as the soup hit the "done" mark.

I ladled out some soup, and I had no trouble finding the orzo now. They were much larger, and there sure were a lot of them. Took a taste from my bowl, and I have to say, it was like a mouth full of nothing. It needed something. Something basic. Something like...salt! Oh, for pity's sake. No salt at all in the soup. And all the time I kept stirring and tasting and thinking it didn't taste like much, I kept expecting things would change as it got hotter. Dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb. I salted the bowl, then went and salted the pot. It was still hot in the pot, so I hoped for the best.

Later, as I went to pack the soup for storage, it looked like the orzo was still getting bigger, and there wasn't very much broth at all. I set 2 big containers into the freezer, one in the fridge, and had enough left for two small containers -- there's lunch for the next two days at work.

Leftovers, day 1: This is turning from turkey noodle soup to noodle soup with turkey. And it still needs salt.

Day 2: I have officially named this Turkey Concrete.

Day 3: The container in the fridge looks like a casserole, not like soup.

Today I have taken that container and dumped it into a pot (it was like noodle pudding or something), mixed in 1/2 a carton of chicken broth, more salt, some of every herb or spice I think might go with this stuff, and set it on the stove to simmer.

Next time I do this, I'm not using orzo. Dang, those little guys soak up liquid. Maybe I'll use rice. Or egg noodles. And I must remember to be more patient with the starchy stuff. It'll expand (boy, will it ever!), I just need to wait.

And salt! Don't forget the freakin' salt.

Update: Lunch has been eaten. Much better. Next container's worth, though, will not be getting red pepper flakes and cayenne and paprika. I'll probably keep the paprika and cut out the flakes.

Dr Pepper and I Can't Believe It's Not Butter

Reading the Bloggess's post about Diet Dr Pepper's new slogan "There's nothing diet about it!" for some reason made me think of this bit from the Vicar of Dibley:



Lordy, I miss that show.

Last day of vacation

I go back to work tomorrow. I've spent this last week the way I would have spent the one before it if I hadn't stepped on that emotional land mine on the 29th. Sleeping in, staying up late, watching movies, wandering around town, browsing through stores that I never get to go to 'cause their hours are the same as mine, doing crafts, cooking.

My knitting project accidentally went home with my Mom after Christmas. While digging around in my craft room looking for something to do I found a half-done project I set aside years ago in favor of something else (can't remember what that was any more) and decided to drag it out and finish it. Click here to see what it'll look like when it's done.

Yeah, it's a cat. What are the odds? The colors don't look nearly that bright in person, though they are very cheerful. The directions on this thing instruct you to work left to right, top to bottom. I got as far as the red corner behind the cat's head before I set it aside a few years ago. This past week I've done the variegated purple-red rectangle, the green one, the other red corner, the purple body section, and right now I'm working on the variegated blue-green chest. I'd show you how it looks right now, but my camera bag was packed with my knitting, so it's up in the mountains as well. I probably won't get anything back until Easter. Mom offered to send things down to me, but I really don't like the idea of my camera bouncing around in the mail.

I made stock yesterday from the carcass of the Thanksgiving bird. Today I make soup. Which means that I'll have lunches for this week. I'm going to be using some of the CSA veggies that I blanched and froze this past summer, along with a can of creamed corn (my Mom says she always uses a can of creamed corn in her soup. As a thickener, maybe?) and some of the stewed tomatoes that I also made this summer using my crock pot. Did I mention those before? I can't remember, and I'm too lazy to go look through past posts.

I got Delilah's ashes back from the vet on Tuesday. When my other cat died, his ashes were returned to me in a decorative tin, and that's what I was expecting this time too. Instead, they came back in a little wooden box with a carved top. There's an engraved brass nameplate as well, with stickum on the back of it so that I can affix it anywhere I want on the box. I was so surprised at how nice it was that I burst into tears again. It's a good thing I decided not to inspect the package I was handed until I got home.

And then tomorrow it's back to the daily grind. I'm dreading the first opening of email. That'll take up a large chunk of the morning. And I'm also dreading the recitation of how things went over the holiday. I only told two people about Lolly's illness, but by the time I left the whole freakin' department knew about it. I should make sure I put it out there that anyone who offers me a pet right now might leave my cubicle with hurt feelings. I could probably just tell those same two people.

Off to make some soup!

I don't really have much to say...

...I just need to get that picture from off of the top of my blog. It makes my heart hurt to look at it right now.

I keep expecting to hear her come trotting down the stairs or howl at her water fountain. I also find myself turning to talk to her, and I start the silly nonsense songs I used to sing at her only to cut myself off immediately. If I'm not careful, I'm going to turn into the Crazy Lady at Number 10, the one who holds conversations with nobody anyone else can see.

I miss her a lot at bedtime. She used to walk all over me, then settle onto my chest and purr in my face.

I've already had one friend offer me a puppy from a litter she's expecting in February. It's a good thing this was done through email, so I didn't hurt her feelings (or her face) with the vehemence of my initial reaction. I haven't officially answered her yet. I hope she's taking my silence as a great big "No."

Gone

Delilah
July 1991-December 29, 2009

Traveling today

Two days before Christmas. I'm wrapping presents while listening to the dryer. Parents should be calling eightish to let me know they're leaving the mountains and headed my way. Here's hoping I'm ready to go by the time they get here around ten.

Delilah's coming with me to my sister's this year. She far too sick to be left alone. It's hard to believe that this time last month it didn't look like there was anything wrong. Her poor little face is so misshapen on the left side. She has a huge lump under her jaw, and her mouth on that side looks swollen.

She doesn't eat much, but she's still interested in food. I don't think she's in pain yet. It's hard to tell. She definitely doesn't feel well though. She wobbles a little bit if she turns her head too fast. She's finding strange places to sleep--in the closet on top of the hamper, or wedged between the side of the nightstand and the wall. She was sleeping in the craft room for a while, in the middle of a pile of polyfil stuffing she'd pulled out of its bag. She was sleeping on and under it. Made sense to me--soft and warm, but not too heavy. She looked like she was sleeping in a cloud. I would have taken a picture, but I really don't want any visual record of this illness. Going back and reading the blogs entries about it is going to be hard enough.

Sorry for the tone of this post. I'll try to be more cheerful next time.

Off to get some coffee and wrap more presents.

Another good holiday song from Straight No Chaser

From the same group that brought you the 12 Days of Christmas song mash-up that was everywhere last year (at least I think it was last year. Time is telescoping on me right now).

Found this through Acapodcast -- a podcast devoted to a capella music.

Feeling less mopey and sorry for myself today

...and it's a damn good thing, too. It's not like this is happening to me, after all.

The following, which reduced me to giggles, was found by way of robyn, who managed to post two things today even though she's had a killer migraine for 4 days running.



Never to young to learn the ukulele.

And isn't the itchy-nose bit adorable?

Bad news

Well, the vet finally called. The labs came back today. It's cancer in the mouth and in the lymph gland. Squamous cell carcinoma, which he said is a fast-moving one. He said to enjoy her while I can, and to call him when it looks like she's starting to suffer.

My poor little girl.

I may not be around for a while, as I don't think I have it in me to be entertaining right now.

Still no word

I've been checking my voicemail all day, expecting and dreading news from my vet. It's quarter after 8 now. The office closed at 7:30, so I guess I'm not getting an answer today. One more day to fuss over the cat.

She's having a little trouble with the stairs. Down? No problem going down. Up is a different story. She takes them very slowly. Once in a while she comes downstairs and sits on my lap, but generally she hangs out in a box of blankets and afghans in the lilac room upstairs, the room where her litter box is. I moved her food up into that room too, and placed it so that all she has to do is move to the other end of the box to eat. I've even opened the bathroom door so she can drink from the tub, which is her favorite way of getting water anyway.

She's been very quiet. She purrs like a jet engine whenever I touch her or talk to her, but she hasn't meowed in almost a week. She's usually very vocal, so this is worth noting.

She is still eating, though. I've been mixing tuna with her wet food, and she's eating most of it. That's something. And she's still bathing. And using the litter box.

So now I wait another day to hear from the vet. Not his fault, I'm sure. It was only his estimate of when the labs would send the results back.

Not good news

So we went to the vet's yesterday. The man we normally see was doing a surgery, so we saw someone else. He'd read the notes, and his assistant was the same woman who'd been there last Friday, so it didn't take long to get him up to speed.

He felt around for a bit, looked her over, and then said that perhaps before they do a biopsy or an X-ray they should aspirate the gland and try to get some cells from the growth on her mouth. There's definitely a tumor there. I saw it for the first time yesterday. I guess I missed it because her lip's been covering it. Unlike dogs, cat's won't let you play around with their mouths. He started to tell me how much pathology would cost, and I cut him off.

"I don't care what it costs..." and then I burst into tears.

So they took her away to get some samples. When he brought her back, the vet told me it looks like there are two things going on: infected lymph gland and mouth tumor. I suggested the rotten tooth was caused by the tumor trapping food up there, and that's what infected the lymph gland, and he said that sounded logical.

They can remove the gland. She has plenty of others, she can live without this one. Problem is, we don't know whether the tumor is cancerous or benign. And even if it's benign, knocking her out to get rid of all that's wrong could wind up killing her anyway. She's 18 and a half ("she'd definitely be one of the oldest cats we've tried this with..."), with iffy kidneys and now a very slight heart murmur--he heard that when he was checking her over.

"But," he said, "that could have been fear."

The slides went out yesterday. I heard him in the back telling someone to send them "priority." He thinks we'll have results by Tuesday.

I don't know what to do. Even if the diagnosis comes back as not cancer, how much damage will surgery do? Am I considering keeping her alive out of sheer selfishness, just because I'm not ready to say goodbye?

I'm still giving her the antibiotics, for whatever good they're doing. The lump looks bigger now, and I'm wondering if just imagined that it was shrinking.

I'll know more Tuesday. All I can do until then is fuss over her and pamper her, which she takes as her due, bless 'er.

Hallelujah Chorus by silent monks

Having a rotten day. More on that when I can write about it (or even think about it) without sobbing. Yes, it has to do with the cat. No, she isn't dead. Not yet, anyway.

This, however, cheered me up some:



That set of cards they hold up at the end says (I think) "Have a Merry Christ mas and a Happy New Year"

Of wind, warmth, and utility bills

Good lord, is it windy! It sounds like there's a wild thing trying to take off my siding out there. The wind is making these horrible sobbing noises as it whips round the corner of my house and rattles my windows.

This time last year I would have been wrapped in layers, listening to the heater cycle on/cycle off, and shivering. But now I have thermal drapes, so I'm all toasty.

Thermal drapes, of thee I sing! I have you in the living room, in the kitchen (where there used to be vertical blinds. No good those are! All they do is sway back and forth in the breeze) and upstairs in my bedroom. You are wonderful things. So what if you also block out most of the daylight? I have summer drapes for when I want light. You? You make it so that I won't be paying huge electric bills this year.

I hope.

We'll see. I haven't gotten a bill in a while that didn't have a zero balance on it.

Lemme explain that. I don't know how billing works where you live, gentle readers, but here they only check the meter every other month. On the months they don't come read it, they estimate. They base this on usage from the previous year. Or, if you're not comfortable with them guessing how much you used, you can read the meter yourself and report it to their computer--either over the phone or online.

That's what I'd been doing, reading the meter myself. 'Cause the one time I didn't I got a nasty surprise. Holy power bill, Batman! I'd forgotten that the year before there had been four people in this house, and apparently they would turn on every light and appliance in the place then go stand outside, join hands, and watch the meter go 'round and 'round, just for fun. I didn't want another bill like that one, so I've been taking down numbers and calling the power company computer.

Except for last June. I thought I was clear for last June, since that's when I moved in. I was wrong. The bill for June was estimated from the previous year, and was close to $300. Gulp. But then my own usage kicked in the next month, and I had such a large credit on my account that I didn't owe them anything. I've been riding that same wave ever since. This bill coming up will be the first one in a while where I expect to send them a payment. I'm interested to see how much it is.

I'm also thinking of paying them a large chunk next June and riding the wave through the summer again. That was kind of nice.

Little monster on the mend

The cat's feeling better. So far today she's eaten some shredded turkey, a third of a small can of tuna, and when I went to check on the little saucer that had her wet food on it, it was practically licked clean. Right now I'm listening to her eat from the bowl of dry food that I keep upstairs near where she sleeps.

She's also tried to eat a dead maple leaf, a blade of dried grass, and a long fiber from the edge of the carpet. I've had to chase her down three times in 20 minutes to take those things away from her. 'Cause she'll just throw them up, along with anything else she ate. The brat. I think she thinks we're playing a game. Only problem is, if she wins she loses her dinner.

The lump is decidedly smaller, it isn't just me being hopeful. Though I really do think they're going to have to take that tooth out. It's rotten, after all. Her mouth must hurt.

Made it to the finish line

Ta-da!

Last post of the month. Made it through NaBloPoMo two years running.

It was a little harder this year than last. I felt like last year I had more to say. This year it was all, "Thanksgiving! People! In my house! Gaaaah!"

But hey, the challenge was about posting daily, not about being interesting daily. That? Yeah, I don't think I could do that.

Now I'm gonna go knit.

Wait! Kitty wellness update. I'm pretty sure it's not just wishful thinking that the lump on the cat's face is getting smaller with the repeated application of antibiotics. Pleaseopleaseoplease, it's an infection and can be easily taken care of and not something-something oma. Please?

She hasn't been eating much this week, but tonight she showed an interest in my dinner so I did something I have never done. I fed her from my plate. I took some turkey, ripped it into little bits and fed her by hand. Then when it looked like she wanted more I went and got some from the fridge. I'd say she put away about 2 ounces of turkey, which is pretty good for a very small cat who generally just nibbles on something and then walks away.

I know. Bad habit to start, feeding her people food. But you know what? At this point I'm just happy she ate something. She was really getting me worried with the whole not eating thing.

Snapshot Sunday -- Thanksgiving edition

Thursday's bird, just after basting:



Seasoned with poultry seasoning, salt, pepper, and paprika. Stuffed with monk's bread (made by Trappist monks. Mom really likes it), celery, apples, sage, and onion. Basted in apple cider and its own juices.

Is it December yet?

I'm looking forward to not writing everyday come December. I'm beginning to be sick of the sound of my own voice. Let's listen to someone else today, shall we?

This first is from group called Oysterband. The second is from Imogen Heap. Never heard of either of them before they showed up in the playlists of DJs I listen to on Blip. Liked the Oysterband track so much that I tracked down a copy of the CD it belongs to (through Amazon) and bought it.

Oysterband - Here Comes The Flood

Imogen Heap - Aha!

...and I'm spent

Everyone just pulled outta here about 20 minutes ago. In the original plan, my parents were going to stay another day, but I guess when Mom said that she forgot to run it by Dad. He has stuff at home he wants to do tomorrow.

It went well. Very well. The turkey was yummy, all the side dishes were eaten and liked; that would be: stuffing (made with apples and monk's bread), corn pudding, glazed carrots (with apple cider in the glaze), sweet potato casserole, mashed turnips (rutabagas, according to the sign in the produce section), Brussels sprouts in mustard butter, broccoli and cauliflower, rolls, gravy made from the drippings from the turkey, and homemade cranberry sauce using Average Jane's recipe. The turkey was basted with apple cider partway through cooking. Apple seems to have been a running theme--it was in the cranberry sauce, the stuffing, the turkey, and the carrots. "Gas" was another theme--the sprouts, the turnips, broccoli, cauliflower, bacon in the carrots--all guaranteed to contribute to the mushroom-shaped cloud over my house.

My sister brought wine (whee!) and pumpkin cheesecake. Half of it is still in my fridge. I feel like Mom did most of the work, but when I said that, she disagreed most vehemently. Okay. I'll take some credit.

I have a fridge full of food, a turkey carcass in the freezer waiting to be made into stock, 12 bottles of beer (no one wanted any. I was surprised) and a sink full of dishes waiting to be loaded into the dishwasher. I already did 2 loads yesterday. Well, 2 1/2. The garbage disposal choked on something and the dishwasher had to be stopped partway through because the water was backing up into the sink. One trip to Wal-mart for purchase of a plunger and drain cleaner, and the sink was clear. I already have one plunger, but I really didn't want to use it in the kitchen sink since it's usually used...um...elsewhere. So now I have one for Kitchen Use Only.

Everyone says they enjoyed themselves, and apparently my sister has been sharing my stressed-out emails with her in-laws. Mr. S kept apologizing for putting me in a tizzy, to which I responded, "Freaking out is what I do best. Remember Ditter's bridal shower?"

A little incident from her shower came back to me this morning. We were staying with Stretch's parents 'cause the shower was supposed to be a surprise. The morning of the shower I sat bolt upright in bed and said,

"I need balloons."

"Right now?" This from my Mom, groggily. She'd been asleep right next to me.

"No, we can have breakfast first. But I need balloons." I wanted them to decorate the chair Ditter would be sitting in while she opened gifts.

And then I sat there in the semi-dark, thumbing through my "Everything Bridal Shower" book, checking to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything (else). It wasn't even 6 a.m. yet.

So anyway. I've survived my first large dinner party. Hurray!

In cat news, I took Delilah to the vet this morning to have them look at that lump. She has a rotten infected tooth, as well. The vet said it could be one of two things: tooth decay that's gotten infected, or something something-oma (cancer) that also attacks the teeth. That lump I'm feeling? That's her lymph.

Dad drove me. I managed to get out of the vet's office without bursting into tears, but then I lost it after telling Dad what was said. Sorry, Dad. He's very uncomfortable around tears. Got myself under control a couple of blocks later, and am now trying very hard not to think past the dose of antibiotics she's to get every 12 hours. We go back next week, when they might have to biopsy/X-ray if there's no change, and they'll probably have to take the tooth.

All this time I thought it would be her kidneys that would kill her, and now it might be her mouth.

Well, enough of that. I'm going to go get one of those beers no one wanted, curl up on the couch, and watch Pieces of April. I ordered it from Netflix especially for when I had my place to myself again.

Phew!

Done! *Pant, pant, collapse on sofa*

I took pictures of the bird and the table, but in my cleaning frenzy I accidentally hid my card-reading USB drive thingie from myself. Soon as I find it I'll post them.

I'm beat. I'll post more tomorrow.

Happy Thanksgiving to anyone who celebrates it!

Silver lining, grey cloud

It looks like I may survive this after all. Things were still messy last night when my parents got here, but Mom said I'd done most of the "heavy lifting" myself, and between the two of us it was maybe a 2-hour job to get things finished. Of course, this was right after my Dad made some sort of snotty comment and then went back outside for something. Which is when I said to Mom,

"And that's why I didn't want to do this. It's not like it's a surprise that I'm an indifferent housekeeper. This is going to be an exercise in humiliation."

After they went to bed, I cleaned the kitchen some more, did some laundry, got a crock pot breakfast started, set up the coffe pot, put it on the timer, loaded and started the dishwasher (after the washing machine was done) and then watched most of Conan O'Brian before finally feeling relaxed enough to go to sleep.

Dad made another comment this morning, and I bit my tongue (though in my head I said, "When's the last time you so much as lifted a broom or a washrag?"). However, Mom reproved him with,

"That is not helping. At all."

and he's stopped. He's been playing around on my laptop, looking at his e-trade data, reading my aunt's family tree thing she sent out to everyone (they have dial-up still, and can't get the file to load. I need to remember to burn him a copy of the file before they leave on Friday), watching movies, enjoying himself (I hope).

Today we finished up. Mom caught some things that I missed and cleaned them, I did the kitchen floor. We went shopping for the stuff I needed to get fresh--vegetables, mainly--and to get beer and soda. Came back, had lunch, I worked on the living room while Mom made corn pudding and stuffing. We went out to dinner at Red Lobster (without Dad, who was still full from the sub we got him for lunch), and came back fully intending to do more Thanksgiving prep, but got hit by a waved of tired, tired, tired. We've decided to get up tomorrow at six and pick up from there. Dad was already in bed when we got home. Mom's in bed now. I'm on the couch with the cat, listening to the dishwasher run.

Which brings me to the "grey cloud" part of my post. While petting Delilah earlier today, I noticed a lump on the left side of her jawline that surely wasn't there yesterday. It's a hard lump. My immediate thought was "cancer," and I hope I'm not going all Cleopatra-Queen-of-Denial here by thinking that maybe it's an abscessed tooth. My reasons:

• I swear it wasn't there yesterday.
• She doesn't look or act like she's sick: eyes are bright, she's not hiding, is all lovey-dovey with me*, and was giving the dog attitude earlier today.
• She's been a little off her food, but hasn't been refusing it. Has been paying a little more attention to the soft wet stuff than to the dry crunchies today.
• It's a hard lump, not fleshy. Sam's and Oreo's tumors were fleshy and slow-growing The one under Oreo's tongue Mom said she never felt at all when she petted him.
• Her kidney problem makes her more susceptible to infections. Weakens her immune system. I think.
  

There are no vet's hours tomorrow, but I'm calling first thing Friday morning to see if someone will see us ASAP. I'm trying not to dwell on it, as there's nothing I can do about it until Friday. But I'm watching all the same, trying to make sure it doesn't get any bigger.

Ditter, Stretch, and the Esses are coming tomorrow. I've been told to expect them around 11 AM.

And now I'm going to crash on the couch. I don't think I'm gonna be awake for Conan tonight.

*As a matter of fact, right now she's in my lap, trying to block my view of what I'm writing. With her back end, of course.

Taking a small breather...

...literally. I just ran the vacuum on the stairs, kicked up so much dust that I'm starting to wheeze. Also? Almost brained myself (twice) while trying to use the crevice tool. The vacuum is wider than the stair, and its center of gravity is kind high up on the machine. Apparently. 'Cause it kept tipping over while I was the next step or two down from it, trying to get at all the cat hair in the corners.

So why didn't I start from the bottom and work my way up? Because the vacuum was upstairs, I was upstairs, and I didn't get that idea until I was done. Next time, though, I'll chase the vacuum down the stairs and swear at it instead of protecting my head and swearing at it.

And now that my inhaler's starting to work, I must dash. In the words of Willy Wonka:

So much time and so little to do. Wait a minute. Strike that. Reverse it.

Nyah-nyah

I am sure Delilah does this when I'm not looking.


see more Lolcats and funny pictures

The nicest things anyone ever said to me

A year ago June, Antonia of Whoopee posted a list of the nicest things anyone had ever said to her. She invited her readers to do the same. I meant to, then forgot. A week ago Friday, Mighty Girl mentioned the post and it reminded me that I never wrote mine.

"You're fun to get lost with." This from Ryan, best man/brother of the groom/my ride to the bride's parents' house in Pittston, PA, where we were both staying until the wedding. The bride was a friend of mine from college, sister of another friend of mine from college, and I'd been to their place a few times before but I'd always gone by bus. When the bride arranged the ride for me, she neglected to tell me that Ryan was going to need help getting to Pittston. I found this out as we passed the exit for Wilkes-Barre and he told me to take over navigating from there. I had no idea how to get there. Since I don't drive, I don't pay attention to roadsigns when I go places. I couldn't give him real directions like, "Go north on US 81." I'd say things like "I have a feeling we should turn left up here."

What I didn't do was panic or get angry. I have a dad who used to pack us all into the car on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon and drive forever to go...nowhere. Just to turn around and come back. As self-defense, I've developed an enjoy-the-ride-make-your-own-fun attitude towards travelling by car. I employed this. I'd say things like, "This is starting to look really familiar. Yes, I remember that shop with the vines in the window." and then point out a funeral home, "Why do they always turn the prettiest houses in town into mortuaries?"

Eventually, we gave up, stopped at an A+ Minimart and asked to be pointed towards Pittston. Turns out I got us on the right road, but we were headed away from town instead of towards it. When we finally pulled into the bride's parents' driveway, we took a deep breath, looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

"If I didn't know you were here, I wouldn't know you were here. You can come stay any time." This from Mr. B, the father of those same two college friends. This was from an earlier visit. We were all still in college, and I'd been brought home with The Girls for a long weekend in the summer. Fourth of July, I think. The house was full of people, mainly Mrs. B's relatives, mainly Italian, mainly noisy. Honestly, it felt I'd just been dropped into the Castorini's house in Moonstruck. I came in off the porch to get a glass of water, saw something that needed doing, and decided to do it: the dishwasher was done running and ready to be emptied. I'd helped set the table a couple times so I knew where things went. Mr. B. walked into the kitchen when I was halfway through, which is when he said that.

"You should do stand up." From Deena, my just-recently retired ex-teammate. She's said this a bunch of times, usually after I tell her some silly story about my family (remind me someday to tell you about the time Needles (the cat) went sledding). I can't do stand-up. I prefer a smaller audience than that.

"Every time I talk to you, I gain IQ points." From my friend Stacy. I have no idea what we were talking about, but that remark has echoed in my head for years. Makes me blush a little every time I think about it.

How about you? What are the nicest things anyone's ever said to you?

An extra post

This is for JustMe, of Peanut-butter-and-Bacon Sandwiches. She asked about Blip in the comments box a few days back. It's a neat site.

Basically you become a DJ. You build your own playlist of songs, based on what they have in their library--which is extensive. You can just listen to you own playlist, or listen to the main feed, which is a mix of what everyone is playing. If you hear something you like in the main feed, you can add it to your list. If you want to, you can explore what other DJs are playing. If you decide you like what you hear from them, you can make them a "favorite," which adds their playlist to yours. I have 11 favorite DJs so far, so when I hit play I get the past few days' worth of what everyone has been playing. There's always the option just to listen to your own list as well.

It's fun. One Sunday this fall my sister and I had a musical conversation using Blip. She'd play something, I'd respond with something it reminded me of. Or something by the same artist. Or something that had nothing to do with anything. Then she'd respond to that, and so on. It was a fun way to while away a Sunday afternoon.

Done painting (finally)

Since about a week after I moved in, there's been a section of my living room wall that has needed a second coat of paint. I've been putting it off, mainly because getting to that wall meant unhooking the cable box and dragging the entertainment center out of the way.

Why did I set the entertainment center in place before the space was ready, you ask? Because my father was here the last time I painted, and he really, really, really wanted to watch TV. So he hooked it up, put everything into place, and put the unit in the middle of the wall before I knew he'd done it. And I've been telling myself ever since that I need to paint, I need to just move that stuff out of the way and paint. And then I put it off, pretending I can't see the blue painter's tape that has been marking off all the edges for a year and a half.

Having company coming for Thanksgiving lit a fire under my behind. Got up this morning at around 6, tossed some coffee down my throat, put on my painting clothes, got out the painting supplies. Then I fired up iTunes on the laptop, queued up my belly dance playlist, and finally moved everything away from the wall and started painting. I was done before noon, surprised that it took so little time. I should have done this months ago! Why do I let thing loom so large in my mind, so that I approach them with dread (cough Thanksgiving)?

No, I haven't relaxed about Thanksgiving. I'm still a little freaked out by the hosting of my first dinner party, and all the attendant hoopla involved. But I got the damn living room painted, and now I feel a little calmer. A little.

Now is not the time to rest on my laurels. I have sheets to wash, pictures to hang, toilets to clean, a tub to scrub, and plenty of stuff to put away yet.

I think tomorrow I'm going to start organizing the craft room, finally. If I have time.

Must...remain...calm...

An actual exchange between my teammate and me as she left work early for the weekend:

Bess: Well, I'm outta here. Have a good weekend. Oh, wait! You're off next week.
Me: Yup.
B: Well! I guess I won't see you 'til December first. I'm taking Thanksgiving Monday off.
M [singing]: See you...in December... oh, no, wait. Wrong month.
B [laughing]: But it works. Well. Have a good Thanksgiving. Stop stressing and enjoy yourself.
M: I'll try not to make the news. For, you know, snapping and chasing people around with carving knives..."You don't like how I do my turkey? No? You sure?!?!?" or maybe bursting into flames out of sheer angst....
B: Yes. Please try to stay out of the papers.

I've had this in my head all week

A couple months back, someone I follow on Twitter mentioned a podcast called "Coverville." Interested, I looked it up.

It's a semiweekly show, roughly an hour long, hosted by Brian Ibbott. The podcast consists of bands doing covers of songs by other bands. Usually there's a theme. Recent themes have been Kiss, Johnny Mercer, Michael Jackson, Sesame Street, and David Bowie.

Every once in a while, though, he does a show that's all listener requests. A little over a week ago I listened to the podcast that played someone's requested cover of The Talking Heads' "This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)" by Miles Fisher.

I liked it so much I downloaded it from Amie Street (it was free, but I had to register), and played it over and over and over -- to the point where it's been stuck in my head all week. And now, maybe, it'll be stuck in yours.

You're welcome.

Holiday checklist (continued)

• Chairs bought/refurbished? Half-check. I've bought two folding chairs with padded seats and backs, and will buy one of those tie-back covers for the craft room chair that isn't as much in need of repair.
• Chair pads bought for kitchen chairs? Check. Not on the original list until I realized the fold-up extra chairs were a little more friendly on the bum than my regular ones.

Reorganization continues. Painting is slated for Saturday. Fridge is getting cleaned out Sunday or Monday so that I have the room I need for Thursday.

Gotta go! I'm riding a wave of anxiety that makes me need to move stuff around.

Black and white

I started a post, and am having trouble finishing it. I'll post it tomorrow. For today, I give you a picture.



Took this shot sometime around Christmas '08, I think. Just recently found it on the laptop, printed it out, and framed it. Framed a bunch of pictures, actually. Part of the attempt I'm making to get this place looking lived-in by next Thursday.

Here's another one. It's a photoshopped version of a shot I took of the dinner bell on my parents' porch.

I also printed one of my sister goofing for the camera, one of the baby robin from spring '08, one of the zinnias, and one from years ago of a sunflower by the post office downtown.

Yikes!

I went to bed, drifted off to sleep, and woke with a start an hour later realizing I hadn't posted. Oh, no!

Luckily there's still time.

My aunt (one of the many on my father's side) sent out to anyone whose server wouldn't choke on the file a copy of the family tree traced back to 1783. It's a book originally put together by my Dad's uncle Wilbur. I saw his version of this back in the mid-1980s. My aunt has since caught the family historian bug and has been working to fill in gaps and take it back even farther. She turned her updated version into a PDF file. Some of us with slower connections are going to get sent a CD-ROM with the book on it.

Most interesting story so far: One of my forbears (first name Thomas, middle name Jefferson--called T.J. for short) was shot five times on a train, by the ex-husband of his current wife. This man (the killer) had a vile temper, in one of his fits of rage he destroyed the family piano. His wife divorced him on the grounds of cruel and inhuman treatment. He agreed to the divorce but pestered her constantly to come back to him. When she married T.J., he sent them letters threatening T.J.'s life. I guess they didn't take them seriously. They should have.

I also have as ancestor a full-blooded Native American named Rachel Whitecloud. Not sure which tribe. I guess my aunt couldn't find that info. The transcriber's note at the bottom of the page said it's listed on some of the family histories that she was a native person, but I guess that far back they really didn't care which tribe you came from, so no one wrote that down. Shoot. I'd really like to know that.

Well, that's it for now. Wanna get this posted before it hits midnight.

Edited to add: Something funky happened. It looked like it published, but it didn't. I'm hitting publish again on Tuesday morning and hoping that a) it still counts as Monday and b) blogger takes it this time