Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Little anniversaries
Today is the 1st anniversary of the day I finally Had It Up to Here with my apartment manager and decided to get the bleep outta there. Ah, memories. Have I mentioned that the incompetent twit no longer works there?
Local veggies headed my way
So I just joined (or will have joined, once I get my check in the mail) a community supported agriculture project with a local farm. For $600 you get a crate of fresh vegetables once a week. For $375 you get a crate once every two weeks. If you sign up and pay the whole fee before April 1, you get a 10% discount.
A half-share (the 1-crate-biweekly option) is described as meeting the "produce needs of one vegetable-loving person or a family who consumes only a moderate amount of vegetables." I figured 1 crate every two weeks would be plenty. They give this huge list of the sorts of things the grow:
I have a feeling there's going to be a biweekly feature on the blog this May through November involving a photo of all the stuff in the crate. And probably a plea for recipes/suggestions/ideas about what to do with the contents. For example: Mom says chard is good cooked up with olive oil and garlic.
I figure that $335 or so is a lot to pay up front, but it'll be worth it. It's all local, organically grown produce. It'll make me eat healthier ('cause if I pay that much for it, I sure am gonna eat it). So it looks like I'm taking on cooking this summer as well. Need to learn more of that for Thanksgiving anyway.
A half-share (the 1-crate-biweekly option) is described as meeting the "produce needs of one vegetable-loving person or a family who consumes only a moderate amount of vegetables." I figured 1 crate every two weeks would be plenty. They give this huge list of the sorts of things the grow:
Here is a list of crops you can expect through different parts of the season:Sample Early Season: Spring Greens, Lettuce, Spinach, Radishes, Scallions, Peas, Kohlrabi, Bok Choy, Asian Greens, Cilantro
Sample High Season: Cucumbers, Cauliflower, Carrots, Corn, Summer Squash, Heirloom Tomatoes, Cherry Tomatoes, Garlic, Swiss Chard, Sweet Peppers, Hot Peppers, Potatoes, Fennel Bulb, Beans, Melons, Kale, Eggplant, Basil, Dill and other Herbs.
Egg Corn, Eggplant, Garlic, Carrots, Arugula,
Sample Late Season: Beets, Carrots, Spinach, Potatoes, Onions, Celeriac, Broccoli, Rutabaga, Winter Squash, Leeks, Brussels Sprouts, Garlic, Various Herbs
Sounded intriguing (What's egg corn? What do I do with a fennel bulb? Is celeriac a relative of celery? I sure hope these things get packed with labels on 'em). Sounded healthy. Sounded like a challenge to eat more than just carrots, cucumbers, corn, lettuce, and tomatoes. So I bit the bullet, wrote out the check, and joined.
I have a feeling there's going to be a biweekly feature on the blog this May through November involving a photo of all the stuff in the crate. And probably a plea for recipes/suggestions/ideas about what to do with the contents. For example: Mom says chard is good cooked up with olive oil and garlic.
I figure that $335 or so is a lot to pay up front, but it'll be worth it. It's all local, organically grown produce. It'll make me eat healthier ('cause if I pay that much for it, I sure am gonna eat it). So it looks like I'm taking on cooking this summer as well. Need to learn more of that for Thanksgiving anyway.
Monday, March 23, 2009
And my little heart went pitty-pat...
Holy crap!
Mom just sent me this email:
How would you feel about Ditter and Stretch coming over for Easter dinner?
I stared at it for a few moments (whoo! Feel that adrenaline rush!) before replying:
Over where?
It sounded like there was gonna be some sort of Easter confab (editorial update: wrong word. Apparently that's a conversation. I meant: shindig, do, gathering, partay) at my place. The hell? Last I knew, Mom and Dad were coming to pick up Lolly and me on Good Friday and taking me back home with them. I remember asking if that wasn't a terribly long schlepp, and she replied that it was no worse than the drive to the bus stop to pick me up.
I am totally unprepared for company. I'm planning to host Thanksgiving, and it looked like this email was cutting my prep-for-company time from eight months to three weeks. Gaaaaah!
I followed it up with a second reply:
If you mean over here, this is how I would feel: stressed, panicked, unprepared, under furnished, and guilty if I said no.
I'm not ready for people. I don't have enough furniture for people to all sit on something without some folks getting a kitchen chair. I said I'd host Thanksgiving, and that's what I've been shooting for -- eight months from now. I've never hosted a dinner party, let alone a holiday function, and I'm freaking out right now just thinking about it.
Did you already talk to them about it?
Too antsy to wait for an email back, I called her.
Yep. She thought they were spending the weekend with me, gonna play in my garden, stuff like that.
No.
Nononononono.
I couldn't figure out how she got that idea, and told her so. She mentioned something about a phone conversation we had recently, where we mentioned getting pavers for the garden when they came down, and I said, "Yeah. And I remember thinking, we're gonna do all this on Good Friday?"
So. They're staying home and hosting Easter. I'm gonna do Thanksgiving--I've invited my sister, her hubby, and her in-laws. Don't know if they'll come. Gulp. Need more chairs if they do.
I should buy more chairs anyway.
C'mon tax refund, mama needs to go furniture shopping!
Mom just sent me this email:
How would you feel about Ditter and Stretch coming over for Easter dinner?
I stared at it for a few moments (whoo! Feel that adrenaline rush!) before replying:
Over where?
It sounded like there was gonna be some sort of Easter confab (editorial update: wrong word. Apparently that's a conversation. I meant: shindig, do, gathering, partay) at my place. The hell? Last I knew, Mom and Dad were coming to pick up Lolly and me on Good Friday and taking me back home with them. I remember asking if that wasn't a terribly long schlepp, and she replied that it was no worse than the drive to the bus stop to pick me up.
I am totally unprepared for company. I'm planning to host Thanksgiving, and it looked like this email was cutting my prep-for-company time from eight months to three weeks. Gaaaaah!
I followed it up with a second reply:
If you mean over here, this is how I would feel: stressed, panicked, unprepared, under furnished, and guilty if I said no.
I'm not ready for people. I don't have enough furniture for people to all sit on something without some folks getting a kitchen chair. I said I'd host Thanksgiving, and that's what I've been shooting for -- eight months from now. I've never hosted a dinner party, let alone a holiday function, and I'm freaking out right now just thinking about it.
Did you already talk to them about it?
Too antsy to wait for an email back, I called her.
Yep. She thought they were spending the weekend with me, gonna play in my garden, stuff like that.
No.
Nononononono.
I couldn't figure out how she got that idea, and told her so. She mentioned something about a phone conversation we had recently, where we mentioned getting pavers for the garden when they came down, and I said, "Yeah. And I remember thinking, we're gonna do all this on Good Friday?"
So. They're staying home and hosting Easter. I'm gonna do Thanksgiving--I've invited my sister, her hubby, and her in-laws. Don't know if they'll come. Gulp. Need more chairs if they do.
I should buy more chairs anyway.
C'mon tax refund, mama needs to go furniture shopping!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
A reader's meme
I lifted this meme from Average Jane:
1. Which book has been on your shelves the longest? Jane Eyre, though not the same copy. I keep reading that story to shreds.
2. What is your current read, your last read and the book you’ll read next?
Current Read: Jane and the Ghosts of Netley, by Stephanie Barron
Last Read: The Archivist, by Martha Cooley
Next Book: Magical Thinking, by Augusten Burroughs -- unless something else catches my eye.
3. What book did everyone like and you hated?
I was significantly underwhelmed by The Bridges of Madison County. I didn't see it as romantic at all. I was impatient with him and irritated by her.
4. Which book do you keep telling yourself you’ll read, but you probably won’t?
Not so much that I'm telling myself I'll read it, but that I despair of ever finishing it: A Suitable Boy. I keep picking it up and putting it down. And it's so long between attempts, I usually have to start over. It's good, but it's l-o-o-o-o-o-n-g. Oy.
5. Which book are you saving for “retirement?”
Well, I have to learn French first, but one thing I'd really like to do is read Les Miserables in its original language. Dunno why, I'm sure there are plenty of good translations out there. I just want to read it in French.
6. Last page: read it first or wait till the end?
I wait 'til the end.
7. Acknowledgments: waste of ink and paper or interesting aside?
I like them if they explain who the people are being thanked. If it's just a list of names, I tend to move on.
8. Which book character would you switch places with?
Can't think of anyone.
9. Do you have a book that reminds you of something specific in your life (a person, a place, a time)?
No, not really. Now, ask me that about pieces I've embroidered, that's a different story. For example, the pillow top I was working on during the long drive back from my cousin J's wedding in Virginia. NASCAR radio was on, I was embroidering in the back seat (roads were well-paved, car had decent shocks, and it was a blunt needle. And my small-hand coordination's very good). I've never finished the piece, 'cause every time I look at it I hear nnnnnnnNNNNNYOWMMMMNNNNnnnnnn in my head.
10. Name a book you acquired in some interesting way.
My aunt gave me the whole "Little House" series by Laura Ingalls Wilder, in hardback, one book every year or so, until I had them all.
11. Have you ever given away a book for a special reason to a special person?
I've been doing for my aunt's grandchild what my aunt did for me. I think the next one I have to get her is The Long Winter. Need to check on that.
12. Which book has been with you to the most places?
Most of my childhood books are packed away somewhere. I haven't seen them since we moved out away from the Philly area when I was 17. I hope they're still in good condition. Somehow or other Northanger Abbey missed getting packed up with everything else. I got that
13. Any “required reading” you hated in high school that wasn’t so bad ten years later?
Nope. I still don't like The Red Badge of Courage, and I can't see "The Big Two-Hearted River" as anything but a fishing trip.
14. What is the strangest item you’ve ever found in a book?
Found a photo in one I bought at a used book sale--old black and white photo of a woman holding a baby. Nothing written on the back. I don't remember what I did with it. If Look at Me had been around at the time, I would have scanned and posted the photo there.
15. Used or brand new?
Either. Both. Gimme!
16. Stephen King: Literary genius or opiate of the masses?
Eh. He's all right. Some of his stuff is really good, other works not so much. I think he answered the question himself when he wrote books under the name "Richard Bachman," and they didn't sell until he leaked it that they were his.
17. Have you ever seen a movie you liked better than the book?
I have learned to treat the movie and the book as separate. Other wise I get irritated with what I see as liberties taken with the way the story is told once it's put on film.
18. Conversely, which book should NEVER have been introduced to celluloid?
The Woman in White.
19. Who is the person whose book advice you’ll always take?
My mom's taste and mine seem to coincide. Though my friend G's pointed some interesting books out for me, too. Another one on my list, either after Magical Thinking or before, depending on my mood when I get down with what I'm reading now, is one he recommended called When Languages Die.
1. Which book has been on your shelves the longest? Jane Eyre, though not the same copy. I keep reading that story to shreds.
2. What is your current read, your last read and the book you’ll read next?
Current Read: Jane and the Ghosts of Netley, by Stephanie Barron
Last Read: The Archivist, by Martha Cooley
Next Book: Magical Thinking, by Augusten Burroughs -- unless something else catches my eye.
3. What book did everyone like and you hated?
I was significantly underwhelmed by The Bridges of Madison County. I didn't see it as romantic at all. I was impatient with him and irritated by her.
4. Which book do you keep telling yourself you’ll read, but you probably won’t?
Not so much that I'm telling myself I'll read it, but that I despair of ever finishing it: A Suitable Boy. I keep picking it up and putting it down. And it's so long between attempts, I usually have to start over. It's good, but it's l-o-o-o-o-o-n-g. Oy.
5. Which book are you saving for “retirement?”
Well, I have to learn French first, but one thing I'd really like to do is read Les Miserables in its original language. Dunno why, I'm sure there are plenty of good translations out there. I just want to read it in French.
6. Last page: read it first or wait till the end?
I wait 'til the end.
7. Acknowledgments: waste of ink and paper or interesting aside?
I like them if they explain who the people are being thanked. If it's just a list of names, I tend to move on.
8. Which book character would you switch places with?
Can't think of anyone.
9. Do you have a book that reminds you of something specific in your life (a person, a place, a time)?
No, not really. Now, ask me that about pieces I've embroidered, that's a different story. For example, the pillow top I was working on during the long drive back from my cousin J's wedding in Virginia. NASCAR radio was on, I was embroidering in the back seat (roads were well-paved, car had decent shocks, and it was a blunt needle. And my small-hand coordination's very good). I've never finished the piece, 'cause every time I look at it I hear nnnnnnnNNNNNYOWMMMMNNNNnnnnnn in my head.
10. Name a book you acquired in some interesting way.
My aunt gave me the whole "Little House" series by Laura Ingalls Wilder, in hardback, one book every year or so, until I had them all.
11. Have you ever given away a book for a special reason to a special person?
I've been doing for my aunt's grandchild what my aunt did for me. I think the next one I have to get her is The Long Winter. Need to check on that.
12. Which book has been with you to the most places?
Most of my childhood books are packed away somewhere. I haven't seen them since we moved out away from the Philly area when I was 17. I hope they're still in good condition. Somehow or other Northanger Abbey missed getting packed up with everything else. I got that
13. Any “required reading” you hated in high school that wasn’t so bad ten years later?
Nope. I still don't like The Red Badge of Courage, and I can't see "The Big Two-Hearted River" as anything but a fishing trip.
14. What is the strangest item you’ve ever found in a book?
Found a photo in one I bought at a used book sale--old black and white photo of a woman holding a baby. Nothing written on the back. I don't remember what I did with it. If Look at Me had been around at the time, I would have scanned and posted the photo there.
15. Used or brand new?
Either. Both. Gimme!
16. Stephen King: Literary genius or opiate of the masses?
Eh. He's all right. Some of his stuff is really good, other works not so much. I think he answered the question himself when he wrote books under the name "Richard Bachman," and they didn't sell until he leaked it that they were his.
17. Have you ever seen a movie you liked better than the book?
I have learned to treat the movie and the book as separate. Other wise I get irritated with what I see as liberties taken with the way the story is told once it's put on film.
18. Conversely, which book should NEVER have been introduced to celluloid?
The Woman in White.
19. Who is the person whose book advice you’ll always take?
My mom's taste and mine seem to coincide. Though my friend G's pointed some interesting books out for me, too. Another one on my list, either after Magical Thinking or before, depending on my mood when I get down with what I'm reading now, is one he recommended called When Languages Die.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Jumping the gun a wee bit
So I've been doing Weight Watchers online the past couple of weeks. I can't tell how much I've lost (if anything), 'cause I can't find my bathroom scale. All right, no, I haven't looked for it. I'm afraid. I'll weigh in when I see significant differences other ways. And even then I'll only do it because I'll need to know how many points I should be using in the WW plan (the smaller you get, the less points you have for food).
I was feeling smaller this morning, so I tried a pair of jeans I haven't worn in months. They fit! Huzzah! I decided to wear them to work.
To tell the truth, they're a little snug. Sitting isn't uncomfortable, but I hope I don't drop something today--I bent over to tie my shoes this morning and nearly knocked myself out from lack of air. I probably should have waited another week.
But still! I'm in 'em! Woo-hoo!
In other news: the research on Thanksgiving dinner has begun. We start with napkins. Can't decide between the fleur-de-lis and the diamond pocket napkin fold.
I was feeling smaller this morning, so I tried a pair of jeans I haven't worn in months. They fit! Huzzah! I decided to wear them to work.
To tell the truth, they're a little snug. Sitting isn't uncomfortable, but I hope I don't drop something today--I bent over to tie my shoes this morning and nearly knocked myself out from lack of air. I probably should have waited another week.
But still! I'm in 'em! Woo-hoo!
In other news: the research on Thanksgiving dinner has begun. We start with napkins. Can't decide between the fleur-de-lis and the diamond pocket napkin fold.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
I'm a grown-up!
You'd think, wouldn't you, that buying a townhouse would make me feel like an adult. Or maybe turning forty? Nope. You know what did it? Using the 1040 long form for my taxes, complete with a filled-out schedule A and schedule B.
Except for the year I had jury duty (and couldn't find a space on any other form but the 1040 long form to declare the $14 bucks or so that they paid me to sit around before being dismissed with thanks), I've used the 1040EZ form. One side of one sheet, very little to do except report what I made, what my tax should have been, what they took, and what they owe me.
This year? What I make, what I paid in state and local taxes, what I paid in property taxes, how much interest I paid on the mortgage, how much I paid in private mortgage insurance premiums...subtract that from what I made, along with the usual exemption I get every year (my head is beginning to spin, how about yours?)...two hours of math and form-filling later, it turns out the IRS owes me close to $800! It used to be between $300-$400.
Holy crap.
Except for the year I had jury duty (and couldn't find a space on any other form but the 1040 long form to declare the $14 bucks or so that they paid me to sit around before being dismissed with thanks), I've used the 1040EZ form. One side of one sheet, very little to do except report what I made, what my tax should have been, what they took, and what they owe me.
This year? What I make, what I paid in state and local taxes, what I paid in property taxes, how much interest I paid on the mortgage, how much I paid in private mortgage insurance premiums...subtract that from what I made, along with the usual exemption I get every year (my head is beginning to spin, how about yours?)...two hours of math and form-filling later, it turns out the IRS owes me close to $800! It used to be between $300-$400.
Holy crap.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Neat video
I'm catching up on some Tweets. A bunch of them have links to videos, and I can't really watch them at work, so I'm going through 'em now. Here's one the Bloggess sent out yesterday:
Cool! I love 3-D effect street painting.
Cool! I love 3-D effect street painting.
Sneaky
About a minute and a half after starting work this morning, I gave myself a wicked paper cut on the tip of the middle finger of my left hand. Oh, it's gonna be a good day. After running around with my finger in my mouth for a bit (don'tbleedonthebooksdon'tbleedonthebooks) I finally located a band-aid and slapped it on the wound.
Shortly after that, my old supervisor popped up outside my cubicle and attempted an ambush. It started with desultory conversation about what I was doing (viewing microfilm), and then moved on to this:
"I was going to ask [my supervisor], but thought I'd run this by you first to see what you thought. [A librarian from another section] usually looks after our desk when we have staff meetings and trainings, but he's on sabbatical right now. We were wondering if you and [my fellow refugee] would be interested in doing the desk for us. I mean, I could get one of the students to do it, but ..." and then she trailed off, looking at me expectantly.
"I have so many things going on right now, I just don't think I can take that on too," I lied, sending up a silent prayer of thanksgiving for Malory's warning.
"Oh. Okay. I just thought I'd ask." And then she vanished.
After she left I tracked down my colleague to warn her of a possible sneak-attack. She hasn't been approached yet. At her suggestion I emailed my supervisor (who's out today) to let her know, just in case those people try to do an end-run 'round us and "seek permission" for us for something we don't want to do.
Here's the thing: if the situation were reversed and someone approached one of my old supervisor's employees with an offer like that without checking with her first, you'd hear her screams of rage from as far away as Pittsburgh. Sneaky little mumblegrumbleumph.
D'you think it was an omen, which finger got the boo-boo?
Shortly after that, my old supervisor popped up outside my cubicle and attempted an ambush. It started with desultory conversation about what I was doing (viewing microfilm), and then moved on to this:
"I was going to ask [my supervisor], but thought I'd run this by you first to see what you thought. [A librarian from another section] usually looks after our desk when we have staff meetings and trainings, but he's on sabbatical right now. We were wondering if you and [my fellow refugee] would be interested in doing the desk for us. I mean, I could get one of the students to do it, but ..." and then she trailed off, looking at me expectantly.
"I have so many things going on right now, I just don't think I can take that on too," I lied, sending up a silent prayer of thanksgiving for Malory's warning.
"Oh. Okay. I just thought I'd ask." And then she vanished.
After she left I tracked down my colleague to warn her of a possible sneak-attack. She hasn't been approached yet. At her suggestion I emailed my supervisor (who's out today) to let her know, just in case those people try to do an end-run 'round us and "seek permission" for us for something we don't want to do.
Here's the thing: if the situation were reversed and someone approached one of my old supervisor's employees with an offer like that without checking with her first, you'd hear her screams of rage from as far away as Pittsburgh. Sneaky little mumblegrumbleumph.
D'you think it was an omen, which finger got the boo-boo?
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Blame Chief Loon for this one
She sent me this in an email. It's really punny. As she wrote when I emailed back to her that it was awful: The only way to deal with a pun or an earworm is to pass it on.
Share and enjoy:
Share and enjoy:
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Once every three years, whether I need it or not
I hate people touching my head. It's the main reason why I have long hair--it usually takes me about three years from the last time I get my hair cut to talk myself into going back and getting another one. If someone could figure out a way to wave the comb and scissors around over my head and magically make my hair shorter, I'd be so very happy.
I particularly hate the pre-cut shampooing session. Friends have told me that's their favorite part of the experience, that it's like getting a scalp massage--soooo relaxing. Not with me. I lie back with my head in someone's sink, trying to make small-talk and all the time thinking stoptouchingmestoptouchingmestoptouchingme. When I get up from the sink and follow the stylist to her station I have little half-moon fingernail marks in my palms.
Part of this may come from the time I got head lice, right before my eighteenth birthday. Mom spent an evening going all over my head with a bottle of Rid and a fine-toothed comb (I'm starting to itch just thinking about it). But I think that just reinforced an attitude about something I never liked anyway. Maybe I was scalped in a past life.
Anyway, I think it's time to let someone have a go at my hair. I've been resisting the idea for a while. When you get to the point, though, that your hair's too heavy to stay in a chignon, and it tickles your elbows when it's down (making you think there's someone behind you. Fun for someone living alone), it might be time to take action. And then there's what happens when I try to comb it. All my hair does is sit on my head all day, and yet when I try to comb it, I find that it's turned into one massive tangle towards the bottom. Is there some sort of party going on just past the nape of my neck? I sit here at night (or in the morning), combing and howling. The cat sits next to me while I do this, and I'll bet she's thinking, "Stop doing that if it hurts. Stupid."
Think of me Saturday. I'm going into Holiday Hair and asking someone to transform this:
into this:
Wish the poor unfortunate scissors-jockey some luck.
I particularly hate the pre-cut shampooing session. Friends have told me that's their favorite part of the experience, that it's like getting a scalp massage--soooo relaxing. Not with me. I lie back with my head in someone's sink, trying to make small-talk and all the time thinking stoptouchingmestoptouchingmestoptouchingme. When I get up from the sink and follow the stylist to her station I have little half-moon fingernail marks in my palms.
Part of this may come from the time I got head lice, right before my eighteenth birthday. Mom spent an evening going all over my head with a bottle of Rid and a fine-toothed comb (I'm starting to itch just thinking about it). But I think that just reinforced an attitude about something I never liked anyway. Maybe I was scalped in a past life.
Anyway, I think it's time to let someone have a go at my hair. I've been resisting the idea for a while. When you get to the point, though, that your hair's too heavy to stay in a chignon, and it tickles your elbows when it's down (making you think there's someone behind you. Fun for someone living alone), it might be time to take action. And then there's what happens when I try to comb it. All my hair does is sit on my head all day, and yet when I try to comb it, I find that it's turned into one massive tangle towards the bottom. Is there some sort of party going on just past the nape of my neck? I sit here at night (or in the morning), combing and howling. The cat sits next to me while I do this, and I'll bet she's thinking, "Stop doing that if it hurts. Stupid."
Think of me Saturday. I'm going into Holiday Hair and asking someone to transform this:
into this:
Wish the poor unfortunate scissors-jockey some luck.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Kitty's kidneys
We went back to the doctor (to get another shrink...sorry. Wrong song) for Delilah's kidney recheck. He poked and prodded while she put up with it, then he took her out of the room to draw some blood. I'm glad they don't do that with me in the room. Partly 'cause I'd be upset to see it, and partly because I think she'd be upset for me for not helping her get away from the man with the sharp object.
While they were gone, I read this poster with a chart on it that was equating dog and cat years with human ones. It only went up to 15, and at 15 (according to the chart) a cat's age is equivalent to that of a 75-year-old human. Cripes! When Dr. M. came back into the room with my cat, I mentioned that the chart stopped at 15 years. His assistant found me another one that went farther. 18 is 88, 19 is 92, so right now Delilah is the feline equivalent of 90! Yowza.
I got a voice mail from the vet on Thursday. He says she's stabilized, and that actually it looked like her levels had improved a little. He dismissed that as a fluctuation. He wants me to put her on calcitriol, and called Franck's Pharmacy for me--said they'll call me in a day or two. He gave me an 800-number, which made me wonder if this was going to be a mail-order prescription.
I looked them up on the web. It is. They're in Ocala, FL, and it looks like they're the only people who compound calcitriol for veterinary use. Here's the article on the stuff she's going to take, and what it does for her. Sounds promising.
I can't get over the age thing. 90. I hope I'm still galloping around at 90.
While they were gone, I read this poster with a chart on it that was equating dog and cat years with human ones. It only went up to 15, and at 15 (according to the chart) a cat's age is equivalent to that of a 75-year-old human. Cripes! When Dr. M. came back into the room with my cat, I mentioned that the chart stopped at 15 years. His assistant found me another one that went farther. 18 is 88, 19 is 92, so right now Delilah is the feline equivalent of 90! Yowza.
I got a voice mail from the vet on Thursday. He says she's stabilized, and that actually it looked like her levels had improved a little. He dismissed that as a fluctuation. He wants me to put her on calcitriol, and called Franck's Pharmacy for me--said they'll call me in a day or two. He gave me an 800-number, which made me wonder if this was going to be a mail-order prescription.
I looked them up on the web. It is. They're in Ocala, FL, and it looks like they're the only people who compound calcitriol for veterinary use. Here's the article on the stuff she's going to take, and what it does for her. Sounds promising.
I can't get over the age thing. 90. I hope I'm still galloping around at 90.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Fair warning
My fellow refugee from Hell approached me a few days ago and reported the following:
Our old boss and someone she used to supervise (let's call her Malory) are on the same committee. Malory approached my colleague recently to tell her that she (my colleague) and I should watch out. Apparently at one of this committee's meetings, our ex-supervisor said the following to Malory:
"I don't understand why Vee and Cee haven't come down to work on our desk. They said they'd just need a little time to get settled in their new jobs, and then they could do reference work again."
Okay, first of all, I don't know who "they" are. I think my new boss and her boss said to my old boss and her boss that they'd like us to be left alone for a bit until we settled in. Working on a reference desk is something a few of the catalogers do for a couple hours a week--it's called "job enrichment." They were probably saying that eventually we could join the job enrichment program.
While I am interested in using the reference muscle before it atrophies completely (G, your word questions help me there) I have never, ever, ever indicated in any way that I intended or even wanted go back downstairs and work for them for two hours a week.
I would rather be shot.
From a cannon.
So now every time I go downstairs I'm waiting for my ex-boss to ask me about that. I'm ready for her. I'm planning to ask my supervisor if I can do an exchange to another library entirely, one where I know absolutely nothing about the subject matter. 'Cause really that's the point of this program, to learn new skills. Right? Right.
I am so very grateful to Malory for giving us a heads-up, and I told her so. She shook her head and said, "They just don't get it, do they? They're horrible to their people for years and then are surprised and hurt when those people later shun them."
Yep. That about sums it up.
Our old boss and someone she used to supervise (let's call her Malory) are on the same committee. Malory approached my colleague recently to tell her that she (my colleague) and I should watch out. Apparently at one of this committee's meetings, our ex-supervisor said the following to Malory:
"I don't understand why Vee and Cee haven't come down to work on our desk. They said they'd just need a little time to get settled in their new jobs, and then they could do reference work again."
Okay, first of all, I don't know who "they" are. I think my new boss and her boss said to my old boss and her boss that they'd like us to be left alone for a bit until we settled in. Working on a reference desk is something a few of the catalogers do for a couple hours a week--it's called "job enrichment." They were probably saying that eventually we could join the job enrichment program.
While I am interested in using the reference muscle before it atrophies completely (G, your word questions help me there) I have never, ever, ever indicated in any way that I intended or even wanted go back downstairs and work for them for two hours a week.
I would rather be shot.
From a cannon.
So now every time I go downstairs I'm waiting for my ex-boss to ask me about that. I'm ready for her. I'm planning to ask my supervisor if I can do an exchange to another library entirely, one where I know absolutely nothing about the subject matter. 'Cause really that's the point of this program, to learn new skills. Right? Right.
I am so very grateful to Malory for giving us a heads-up, and I told her so. She shook her head and said, "They just don't get it, do they? They're horrible to their people for years and then are surprised and hurt when those people later shun them."
Yep. That about sums it up.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Three-peat
Three posts in one day!
I am at the moment by myself in a large computer lab, 'cause everyone else has better stuff to do at 7 on a Friday night. So do I, as it happens. I'm outta here shortly.
Why am I blogging from here? 'Cause my laptop is throwing fits. I'll be going along, playing a game, reading my email, writing a blog entry, and suddenly for a few seconds it freezes. It's almost like the machine gets a cramp. This used to happen very rarely, so rarely that I didn't take it to get serviced -- because I couldn't be sure it would do it for the tech guys and I didn't want them to think I was a nut. Now it's happening about once every half hour.
And now Circuit City is going out of business and I have no idea what this does to my protection plan. I'm also pretty sure the plan's about to run out. Laptop is old. It was old when I bought it -- it was the floor model, so I got it at a reduced price with the knowledge that it had been on and operating for most of its time in the store. Think it's time for a new one? Maybe.
It'll have to wait until I get my tax refund, and considering my taxes just got more complicated, I don't know how long that will be. Now I have PMI and mortgage interest to declare as write-offs. I think I have to use 1040-long form this year. Eeeee! I'm a grown-up!
So anywho, that's why I'm alone in a computer lab on a Friday evening. Now I'm taking myself off to dinner (just got paid! Woo-hoo!) and am heading home. Here's hoping Creepy McSmarmypants doesn't try his "hey-baby-I'm-in-the-book" nonsense on the bus tonight. It's been a grump-making kind of day, and the filter between my mind and mouth isn't fitting as snugly as it should.
I am at the moment by myself in a large computer lab, 'cause everyone else has better stuff to do at 7 on a Friday night. So do I, as it happens. I'm outta here shortly.
Why am I blogging from here? 'Cause my laptop is throwing fits. I'll be going along, playing a game, reading my email, writing a blog entry, and suddenly for a few seconds it freezes. It's almost like the machine gets a cramp. This used to happen very rarely, so rarely that I didn't take it to get serviced -- because I couldn't be sure it would do it for the tech guys and I didn't want them to think I was a nut. Now it's happening about once every half hour.
And now Circuit City is going out of business and I have no idea what this does to my protection plan. I'm also pretty sure the plan's about to run out. Laptop is old. It was old when I bought it -- it was the floor model, so I got it at a reduced price with the knowledge that it had been on and operating for most of its time in the store. Think it's time for a new one? Maybe.
It'll have to wait until I get my tax refund, and considering my taxes just got more complicated, I don't know how long that will be. Now I have PMI and mortgage interest to declare as write-offs. I think I have to use 1040-long form this year. Eeeee! I'm a grown-up!
So anywho, that's why I'm alone in a computer lab on a Friday evening. Now I'm taking myself off to dinner (just got paid! Woo-hoo!) and am heading home. Here's hoping Creepy McSmarmypants doesn't try his "hey-baby-I'm-in-the-book" nonsense on the bus tonight. It's been a grump-making kind of day, and the filter between my mind and mouth isn't fitting as snugly as it should.
Sometimes work seems like a Fry and Laurie sketch
I found fragments of this post buried in my drafts section. Thought I might as well post it, (after some editing) 'cause even though it is a little out of date, it's still true.
Backstory: The Chief Loon and I both work at the same library. She works in Lending, I work in Cataloging. One of my projects is to barcode volumes of serial titles. The long-range goal is to make sure everything in our library has a barcode attached to it and is in the system. Most of the books are done, but there are thousands of periodical volumes that aren't barcoded. Right now I'm working on a list given to me by someone in another department, because she needs these specific things done for another project.
Anyway, I'd just bumped into a run of volumes that had been put into phase boxes as extra protection for them--they were old and fragile. Not old or fragile enough for Special Collections, I guess. I'd picked up a box in the run and thought it much lighter than its brothers. I had a feeling it was empty. I was right. No book in the box, nor was it anywhere on the shelf or on any of the shelves nearby. I checked in sorting areas, on tables, on the trucks at the ends of rows, by photocopiers--nothing. My last guess at where it could be (besides being stolen, which is probably what happened to it) is to go into the Dewey section of the library, because even though the boxes had Library of Congress numbers on them, the volumes themselves still had their old Dewey decimal numbers. On my way to the Dewey section I passed the circulation desk, where the Chief was on duty:
Chief Loon: Hi there!
Me: Hi. Look at this. [I show her empty box] I think someone stole this book.
CL: Oh, dear.
M: Yeah. I looked all over the place for it, can't find it. My last hope is that someone put it in the Deweys.
CL: Well, that's an idea. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you.
Me: Me too. Fingers, toes, knees, eyes...going to be hard to walk. Well, maybe not eyes. What if I find it with crossed eyes? Then we'll have two. We don't need a duplicate.
CL: Besides, if you go around crossing your i's you'll have to start dotting your t's.
Me: Well, I was cataloging Yiddish materials this morning...*
CL: There you are. [turns to a patron who's just walked up to the desk] Hi! May I help you?
Ah, yes. The absurdist conversation. Another reason I love living in a college town.
And no, I never did find the book.
*See this chart. Middle of the third row, letter called "samekh"
Backstory: The Chief Loon and I both work at the same library. She works in Lending, I work in Cataloging. One of my projects is to barcode volumes of serial titles. The long-range goal is to make sure everything in our library has a barcode attached to it and is in the system. Most of the books are done, but there are thousands of periodical volumes that aren't barcoded. Right now I'm working on a list given to me by someone in another department, because she needs these specific things done for another project.
Anyway, I'd just bumped into a run of volumes that had been put into phase boxes as extra protection for them--they were old and fragile. Not old or fragile enough for Special Collections, I guess. I'd picked up a box in the run and thought it much lighter than its brothers. I had a feeling it was empty. I was right. No book in the box, nor was it anywhere on the shelf or on any of the shelves nearby. I checked in sorting areas, on tables, on the trucks at the ends of rows, by photocopiers--nothing. My last guess at where it could be (besides being stolen, which is probably what happened to it) is to go into the Dewey section of the library, because even though the boxes had Library of Congress numbers on them, the volumes themselves still had their old Dewey decimal numbers. On my way to the Dewey section I passed the circulation desk, where the Chief was on duty:
Chief Loon: Hi there!
Me: Hi. Look at this. [I show her empty box] I think someone stole this book.
CL: Oh, dear.
M: Yeah. I looked all over the place for it, can't find it. My last hope is that someone put it in the Deweys.
CL: Well, that's an idea. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you.
Me: Me too. Fingers, toes, knees, eyes...going to be hard to walk. Well, maybe not eyes. What if I find it with crossed eyes? Then we'll have two. We don't need a duplicate.
CL: Besides, if you go around crossing your i's you'll have to start dotting your t's.
Me: Well, I was cataloging Yiddish materials this morning...*
CL: There you are. [turns to a patron who's just walked up to the desk] Hi! May I help you?
Ah, yes. The absurdist conversation. Another reason I love living in a college town.
And no, I never did find the book.
*See this chart. Middle of the third row, letter called "samekh"
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Ew
I'm on the bus, headed home after a trip to a craft store and a grocery store. As we round the corner onto the street ahead of mine, I glance around at my fellow passengers and see an odd-looking man with long black hair and a brown leather jacket. He's gazing at me with a look that can only be described as knowing. I quickly look away and make very sure I don't look at him again. That would only be asking for trouble.
Too late.
"Do you take this bus often?"
I look up. He's standing right in front of me, on his way out of the bus.
"Mm-hmm."
"Well, I'll catch you next time. My name is [first name]. [First name, last name]. I'm in the book. Give me a call."
And then he strut-swaggers (swagger-struts?) out the door. I catch the eye of the woman across the aisle from me.
"I don't think so," I say after the door closes. She shakes her head and smiles in sympathy.
So now I'm going to be on the look-out for this dude every bus trip, without seeming to be looking for him or recognizing him. I'm hoping he a) forgets me or b) takes a hint from my lack of phone call.
Sigh. I must be some sort of beacon for weird guys on the bus. It almost makes me nostalgic for Twitch. Almost.
On an unrelated note: My blog turned three yesterday. Aside from attending school and being a member of a children's choir (I sang with them from ages 8-12. Had to quit when I turned 13, because the conductor had a rule about no high school children in her choir. I was very sorry to go), this is the longest I've stuck with anything.
And guess what! Momo-Mama referred to me in her blog!
Too late.
"Do you take this bus often?"
I look up. He's standing right in front of me, on his way out of the bus.
"Mm-hmm."
"Well, I'll catch you next time. My name is [first name]. [First name, last name]. I'm in the book. Give me a call."
And then he strut-swaggers (swagger-struts?) out the door. I catch the eye of the woman across the aisle from me.
"I don't think so," I say after the door closes. She shakes her head and smiles in sympathy.
So now I'm going to be on the look-out for this dude every bus trip, without seeming to be looking for him or recognizing him. I'm hoping he a) forgets me or b) takes a hint from my lack of phone call.
Sigh. I must be some sort of beacon for weird guys on the bus. It almost makes me nostalgic for Twitch. Almost.
On an unrelated note: My blog turned three yesterday. Aside from attending school and being a member of a children's choir (I sang with them from ages 8-12. Had to quit when I turned 13, because the conductor had a rule about no high school children in her choir. I was very sorry to go), this is the longest I've stuck with anything.
And guess what! Momo-Mama referred to me in her blog!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
"There's always more work to do."
We interrupt this blog for a brief political message.
If you don't want to watch it, go here for some nice Irish step-dancing, but please do come back. I don't generally do politics, mainly because my family's a mixed-party family, and I'm probably not going to write about it again any time soon. Someone tweeted me the following, and the whole time I watched it I was nodding and saying, "yep."
We now return you to your regular blog. Thank you.
If you don't want to watch it, go here for some nice Irish step-dancing, but please do come back. I don't generally do politics, mainly because my family's a mixed-party family, and I'm probably not going to write about it again any time soon. Someone tweeted me the following, and the whole time I watched it I was nodding and saying, "yep."
We now return you to your regular blog. Thank you.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Ow-woooooo!
Just a teeny tiny post for now. I have a fifteen minute break and nobody to talk to, so I'm blogging. Don't you feel lucky?
I'm a one-woman serials cataloging team today. Everyone else is either on vacation, out sick, or not due in until March (Deena's on a 10-month contract). I's lonely. Pretty sure I just saw a tumbleweed blow by.
I've been spending the day barcoding stuff in the stacks 'cause it's freakin' cold in my cubicle, and yesterday I found out where all the heat is: stack level 2A. That's where I've been most of the morning. Came back for lunch and to input the barcodes from this morning, and after I hit publish I'm headed back over there.
Is it the weekend yet?
I don't know why I'm wishing the day away. There's a massive project headed my way, coming in from another campus. It's due here on Monday. It was Deena's project originally, but they kept pushing the start date back, and now she's gone for two months so it's mine. Huzzah. It's huge, and it has to get out quickly because the room they're going to be storing things is sort of earmarked for something else that should be arriving soon. I suppose I should enjoy the quiet while it lasts, 'cause next week I'm going to be a bit frenzied.
Well, break's over. Back to work.
I'm a one-woman serials cataloging team today. Everyone else is either on vacation, out sick, or not due in until March (Deena's on a 10-month contract). I's lonely. Pretty sure I just saw a tumbleweed blow by.
I've been spending the day barcoding stuff in the stacks 'cause it's freakin' cold in my cubicle, and yesterday I found out where all the heat is: stack level 2A. That's where I've been most of the morning. Came back for lunch and to input the barcodes from this morning, and after I hit publish I'm headed back over there.
Is it the weekend yet?
I don't know why I'm wishing the day away. There's a massive project headed my way, coming in from another campus. It's due here on Monday. It was Deena's project originally, but they kept pushing the start date back, and now she's gone for two months so it's mine. Huzzah. It's huge, and it has to get out quickly because the room they're going to be storing things is sort of earmarked for something else that should be arriving soon. I suppose I should enjoy the quiet while it lasts, 'cause next week I'm going to be a bit frenzied.
Well, break's over. Back to work.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
No news is good news
Hi there.
Been a longish week. Lots of scurrying around from project to project, trying to make room in my schedule for something large that's coming next week.
Nothing new to report on the kitty health front, thank goodness. No more seizures, she's still bouncy, and she likes her food. And, as if she could sense I was writing about her, she just appeared at my feet. It's probably just to tell me it's time for bed.
Ay, caramba, it's cold over here. You know it's bad out when the weatherman promises that tomorrow it will go up to 12 degrees (that's Fahrenheit. It's somewhere below zero in Celcius. Brrrrrr). I am really, really grateful for those flannel sheets I got as a Christmas present. The cat likes them too.
She's still sitting here, staring at me. I suppose I should set up the coffee pot for tomorrow and head up the wooden hill.
Been a longish week. Lots of scurrying around from project to project, trying to make room in my schedule for something large that's coming next week.
Nothing new to report on the kitty health front, thank goodness. No more seizures, she's still bouncy, and she likes her food. And, as if she could sense I was writing about her, she just appeared at my feet. It's probably just to tell me it's time for bed.
Ay, caramba, it's cold over here. You know it's bad out when the weatherman promises that tomorrow it will go up to 12 degrees (that's Fahrenheit. It's somewhere below zero in Celcius. Brrrrrr). I am really, really grateful for those flannel sheets I got as a Christmas present. The cat likes them too.
She's still sitting here, staring at me. I suppose I should set up the coffee pot for tomorrow and head up the wooden hill.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Delilah's health
So the vet called me Thursday night. Delilah's blood work showed some elevated levels of things, not dangerous yet, but still not quite normal. It looks like she has the very beginnings of kidney disease. He prescribed special food for her, Hill's K/D, which is only available through vets' offices. He wants to see her again in a few weeks to see if her blood chemistry changes on the special food. We have an appointment for the 3rd of February.
I went and got some of this food on Friday morning.Thankfully, she likes it (considering it's the only thing she's allowed to eat now). We've had no more seizures, and she's upstairs right now, galloping around. Sounds like a herd of elephants. She hasn't done that in a few weeks, though I didn't realize that until she started to do it again. I guess the food is working.
I've been afraid to blog about this. Putting it in print makes it real.
The disease is not serious yet, but the vet made it sound like this isn't something that can be remedied. We can slow it way down but we can't stop it.
Well, she's 17 1/2. I can't be expecting her to live forever.
Why not?
I went and got some of this food on Friday morning.Thankfully, she likes it (considering it's the only thing she's allowed to eat now). We've had no more seizures, and she's upstairs right now, galloping around. Sounds like a herd of elephants. She hasn't done that in a few weeks, though I didn't realize that until she started to do it again. I guess the food is working.
I've been afraid to blog about this. Putting it in print makes it real.
The disease is not serious yet, but the vet made it sound like this isn't something that can be remedied. We can slow it way down but we can't stop it.
Well, she's 17 1/2. I can't be expecting her to live forever.
Why not?
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