Ah, at long last, I sit at my comfy chair facing the soft, reassuring glow of the screen. It's been so long. What shall we talk about? I could tell you all about how we moved Zach and Kristie to their new place and how no one let me pick up heavy stuff and how on the ride home I was treated to Hot Now Krispy Kreme doughnuts and oh, so sadly, couldn't eat more than two. I could tell you about the cruise we're going to go on next January to the Bahamas on Royal Caribbean (not that Carnival bullshit) and how there's a skating rink on the boat and how it's all pretty much paid for by someone who's not me because it's a business trip. How cool is that? I could tell you about the insane busy-ness that has been my week but I shudder to think and anyway, that's boring.
But if I could tell you just one thing that happened this week, I would tell you about the new additions to our family.
< Cat Blog >
Nibbler was preggers. Surprise!
Jaimie totally called it a few days ago, but Chris and I were all, "Nah, she's just getting fat because she's being fed regularly now and her metabolism doesn't know what to do with itself. We've seen it before." Which we had. Chris had one cat that looked like a kitten when he first brought it home from the dumpster outside his work. He proceeded to feed Izzy to her heart's content and her wittle body never grew, but her stomach blew up like a balloon. Honestly, she looked like a zeppelin. Many times I contemplated throwing her up in the air to see if she would float down. We figured that Izzy was likely an adult cat when he found her, but malnutrition had stunted her growth.
Anyway, turns out Nibbler was nourished just fine. Where we failed was in teaching her life lessons about living morally. It's always difficult adopting at such a late age, when all the most critical developmental years have passed. It's not her fault she came from a bad home situation.
Right, so she got knocked up. Probably by that womanizing yellow cat. Jerk. We figured this out two days ago. She had five kittens last night. At 2 a.m. Under our bed. I'm sure I'll be posting pictures as soon as Nibbler allows them to emerge from the nest she dug for them out of the underside of our mattress. Why couldn't she have given birth under the house?
It sucks for her, because she normally spends more time outside than inside and now she's pretty much sequestered. The poor thing seems to feel guilty about leaving the litter long enough to eat. I had to put her food where she could reach it by poking her head out.
So yeah, Chris and I are grandparents. He's beaming, of course. He already bought little toys for the babies, and he's petting them frequently so they'll know him by his smell when they open their eyes. It's adorable, in a horrifying way.
< /Cat Blog >
I'm going to spend all day tomorrow catching up on my blog-reading. I miss it so. I wanted to do that tonight but I'm so tired and I had to choose whether to read other people's blogs or update my own. Gotta look out for Number One, yo.
4.29.2005
4.22.2005
4.20.2005
Eureka!
Today, I unlocked the mystery of clipping masks. For those of you who are familiar with Adobe Illustrator, you know that this wondrous function is something a toddler could do. But I didn't know that until today, so I will insist on feeling an enormous sense of accomplishment for figuring it out all by myself. I didn't even have to call Laura.
The trouble with not having a formal education in a field in which you work is that, however competent you are, you are bound to find bizarre gaps in your learning curve. It's irritating, and it makes everything take longer. But oh, the sweet victory of conquering something new. I feel strangely compelled to run through the streets naked.
The trouble with not having a formal education in a field in which you work is that, however competent you are, you are bound to find bizarre gaps in your learning curve. It's irritating, and it makes everything take longer. But oh, the sweet victory of conquering something new. I feel strangely compelled to run through the streets naked.
Memories
Chris had a day off earlier this week, and I guess he got bored, so he drove to Georgia to buy a lotto ticket. I'll let you know if it wins.
He told me it wasn't the scratch-off kind and I said that was too bad, because there's something blissful and innocent about scratching off the silver stuff to see if you won anything. And even if you didn't, you still had a good time.
That reminded me of the long afternoons I used to spend at my grandmother's house when I was small. One of my favorite things to do was find one of her Publisher's Clearninghouse Sweepstakes packages and fill the whole thing out. I don't know if she still gets those, but I know she used to get one at least once a week. And I would fill it out with all her information and put all the stickers where they were supposed to go and my absolute favorite thing to do would be to scratch off the little extra prizes. If you won the sweepstakes, you'd also get whatever you won from the scratch-off contests. I think they were the only reason I filled those out so diligently.
I used to call Mommie Ann (my grandmother) all the time and ask her if she'd heard anything yet, as if they called everyone who sent in their packet to tell them whether or not they won. We always agreed to split the winnings down the middle. I remember Mom trying to explain to me what the odds of winning were, but I would just direct her attention to the sea of papers and forms and coupons laid out before me and explain to her that I hoped everyone else thought exactly the same way she did. Then they wouldn't take the trouble to do all this and I'd have a better shot at winning.
Of course, at the time I didn't understand marketing and target audiences and the fact that many of the old people who got these mailouts were bored to tears and living on social security. Still, I suppose it was sound logic for a 7-year-old.
He told me it wasn't the scratch-off kind and I said that was too bad, because there's something blissful and innocent about scratching off the silver stuff to see if you won anything. And even if you didn't, you still had a good time.
That reminded me of the long afternoons I used to spend at my grandmother's house when I was small. One of my favorite things to do was find one of her Publisher's Clearninghouse Sweepstakes packages and fill the whole thing out. I don't know if she still gets those, but I know she used to get one at least once a week. And I would fill it out with all her information and put all the stickers where they were supposed to go and my absolute favorite thing to do would be to scratch off the little extra prizes. If you won the sweepstakes, you'd also get whatever you won from the scratch-off contests. I think they were the only reason I filled those out so diligently.
I used to call Mommie Ann (my grandmother) all the time and ask her if she'd heard anything yet, as if they called everyone who sent in their packet to tell them whether or not they won. We always agreed to split the winnings down the middle. I remember Mom trying to explain to me what the odds of winning were, but I would just direct her attention to the sea of papers and forms and coupons laid out before me and explain to her that I hoped everyone else thought exactly the same way she did. Then they wouldn't take the trouble to do all this and I'd have a better shot at winning.
Of course, at the time I didn't understand marketing and target audiences and the fact that many of the old people who got these mailouts were bored to tears and living on social security. Still, I suppose it was sound logic for a 7-year-old.
4.18.2005
Wunderkoffee
I finished my term paper at 3 a.m. this morning. I hadn't actually planned on finishing it last night, but I was getting good sentences and I had to strike while the iron was hot.
Chris made me some awesome coffee to keep me alert while I worked. It did more than that. It was magic coffee. It caused the left and right sides of my brain to connect and fuse and spew concrete economic theory in iambic pentameter. Seriously though, it was really good coffee.
I had been writing and thinking and cursing all. day. long. and I'd finally made it to page 4 (of the requisite 10). That was about 8:30. So I took a break and Chris and I watched I Heart Huckabees on pay-per-view. I had been ready to pass out before it started, but throughout the movie, I sipped on this magic brew Chris made for me. If I'm not mistaken, it was a mixture of freshly ground Columbian Supremo, for body, and Highlander Grogg, for flavor. And there might have been some water in it. I'm not sure.
Anyway, after the movie ended, I surprised myself by going back to the computer to get to work again. 30 minutes later, I surprised myself by having another page written. My favorite page so far, in fact. Three hours later, I astonished myself by having completed my paper, revised my outline, and typed my citations.
I kept waking Chris up in the next room to announce that I'd finished another page. Hee.
So at 3 a.m., approximately three hours after I had finished my coffee, I hopped into bed and stared at the ceiling for another hour, reveling in the inner peace I had achieved and resisting the urge to wake up Chris and ask him to take me to the park so we could ride the spinny thing.
I contemplated skipping my first class this morning, but upon popping out of bed bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and feeling no pain, I decided there was no justification. I also decided that I could still feel the coffee in my veins.
It sort of went away around 11:00 this morning, but I haven't been tired all day. And my eyes open really wide and they don't blink much and I don't tell them what to do anymore. Hm. I wonder if "Columbian Supremo" is slang for something.
Chris made me some awesome coffee to keep me alert while I worked. It did more than that. It was magic coffee. It caused the left and right sides of my brain to connect and fuse and spew concrete economic theory in iambic pentameter. Seriously though, it was really good coffee.
I had been writing and thinking and cursing all. day. long. and I'd finally made it to page 4 (of the requisite 10). That was about 8:30. So I took a break and Chris and I watched I Heart Huckabees on pay-per-view. I had been ready to pass out before it started, but throughout the movie, I sipped on this magic brew Chris made for me. If I'm not mistaken, it was a mixture of freshly ground Columbian Supremo, for body, and Highlander Grogg, for flavor. And there might have been some water in it. I'm not sure.
Anyway, after the movie ended, I surprised myself by going back to the computer to get to work again. 30 minutes later, I surprised myself by having another page written. My favorite page so far, in fact. Three hours later, I astonished myself by having completed my paper, revised my outline, and typed my citations.
I kept waking Chris up in the next room to announce that I'd finished another page. Hee.
So at 3 a.m., approximately three hours after I had finished my coffee, I hopped into bed and stared at the ceiling for another hour, reveling in the inner peace I had achieved and resisting the urge to wake up Chris and ask him to take me to the park so we could ride the spinny thing.
I contemplated skipping my first class this morning, but upon popping out of bed bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and feeling no pain, I decided there was no justification. I also decided that I could still feel the coffee in my veins.
It sort of went away around 11:00 this morning, but I haven't been tired all day. And my eyes open really wide and they don't blink much and I don't tell them what to do anymore. Hm. I wonder if "Columbian Supremo" is slang for something.
4.14.2005
Flexing my bullshit muscle
I'm writing my first term paper in almost two years. The topic? An analysis of the economy of Brazil.
Would you like to take a stab at guessing how many books there are in print in the United States concerning Brazil's economy? Like, two. Now, would you like to guess how many of those are available in the whole of Northeast Alabama? Yeah.
There are plenty of periodicals out there, most of them making fun of Brazil's insanely unbalanced distribution of wealth. But I have to look those up and then get the microfilm or the microfische or God forbid the bound volumes. Then I have to sift through them to find useful information and then I have to wash, rinse, and repeat.
So basically I'm just being a whiny-butt.
But I'm discovering that if you know a little bit about economics, some key terms, the basic problems in the socio-political realm of the country, and a skeletal history, you can pretty much make up the rest and sound surprisingly convincing. Not that I would do that. Then again, we're talking about the person who, her senior year in college, got a perfect score on a five-page book review she wrote after reading the back cover.
But kids, you shouldn't do that, because it takes a lot more effort to be creative than it does to regurgitate what someone else has already written. After all, why practice bullshitting? We all know that's just not a marketable life skill.
I know. I should never be allowed to have children. Or babysit yours. So don't ask. Ever.
Would you like to take a stab at guessing how many books there are in print in the United States concerning Brazil's economy? Like, two. Now, would you like to guess how many of those are available in the whole of Northeast Alabama? Yeah.
There are plenty of periodicals out there, most of them making fun of Brazil's insanely unbalanced distribution of wealth. But I have to look those up and then get the microfilm or the microfische or God forbid the bound volumes. Then I have to sift through them to find useful information and then I have to wash, rinse, and repeat.
So basically I'm just being a whiny-butt.
But I'm discovering that if you know a little bit about economics, some key terms, the basic problems in the socio-political realm of the country, and a skeletal history, you can pretty much make up the rest and sound surprisingly convincing. Not that I would do that. Then again, we're talking about the person who, her senior year in college, got a perfect score on a five-page book review she wrote after reading the back cover.
But kids, you shouldn't do that, because it takes a lot more effort to be creative than it does to regurgitate what someone else has already written. After all, why practice bullshitting? We all know that's just not a marketable life skill.
I know. I should never be allowed to have children. Or babysit yours. So don't ask. Ever.
4.11.2005
The fertile season
Laura's birthday is today. Happy birthday, Laura! Jaimie got her something orange, I know not what. I have, as yet, not gotten her anything. This is not, as one may suppose, entirely due to the fact that I am a thoughtless whore, true though it may be. It also has to do with a financial brain fart I am suffering the consequences of at the moment. I thought about making her something out of hemp, but I think she's probably too chic-looking for that now.
I don't know how it is elsewhere, but down here it seems that March and April (with spillover from late February and early May) are home to the birthdays of 90% of my friends, relatives, acquaintances, and random passers-by I have met in the span of my life. I realize that I could probably make a decent living as a fortune-teller.
"Let me see your hand, dearie. Mmm, yes, you look like an Aries."
I've never had this phenomenon explained to my satisfaction. Most say that it makes perfect sense, spring being the time for love and all. But if the babies are being born in the springtime, methinks the love-making would had to have gone on in mid-summer.
Jaimie was born in October. She's weird. We don't play with her.
I don't know how it is elsewhere, but down here it seems that March and April (with spillover from late February and early May) are home to the birthdays of 90% of my friends, relatives, acquaintances, and random passers-by I have met in the span of my life. I realize that I could probably make a decent living as a fortune-teller.
"Let me see your hand, dearie. Mmm, yes, you look like an Aries."
I've never had this phenomenon explained to my satisfaction. Most say that it makes perfect sense, spring being the time for love and all. But if the babies are being born in the springtime, methinks the love-making would had to have gone on in mid-summer.
Jaimie was born in October. She's weird. We don't play with her.
4.09.2005
Sleeping in
I forgot how good it felt to sleep late on a Saturday morning. I'm working late tonight, minding the company booth at yet another trade show I'll probably regret having gotten us into, so I got a decadent 10 hours of sleep.
Chris feels poopy, and he has to work all day long. I think it's going to be one of those 15-hour shifts. I'm still not convinced that's legal.
During the day today, I'm going to go to the grocery store and take advantage of the sale of the century. The sad thing is, I really am excited about it. Not overly excited, unless you're of the opinion that any excitement at all about the selection and purchase of produce is excessive. And I might be inclined to agree.
Chris feels poopy, and he has to work all day long. I think it's going to be one of those 15-hour shifts. I'm still not convinced that's legal.
During the day today, I'm going to go to the grocery store and take advantage of the sale of the century. The sad thing is, I really am excited about it. Not overly excited, unless you're of the opinion that any excitement at all about the selection and purchase of produce is excessive. And I might be inclined to agree.
4.05.2005
Woodlayson's Word of Whenever
syllogism: n. a deductive scheme of a formal argument consisting of a major and a minor premise and a conclusion (as in "every virtue is laudable; kindness is a virtue; therefore kindness is laudable")
The term can also be used more broadly to mean "deductive reasoning" or "a good argument", but to anyone who knows the intent of the word, using it thus may seem like ignorant misuse rather than intentional license.
Here's the thing. This word can backfire on you. It's one of those words that, while sounding real smart-like, can also come off as arrogant and elitist unless used seemlessly and appropriately in conversation. This can make it a difficult word to practice, unless of course you don't care what other people think, which you shouldn't...unless you really are arrogant and elitist, in which case you should listen to some damn criticism once in a while.
Anyway, the fun thing about this word is not so much using it as using it. How many opportunities are you really going to get to say the word "syllogism"? Not nearly as many as you'll get to actually form one as an argument. And that, friends, will make you sound smart without the unwanted side-effects. As a bonus, trying to come up with excuses to form syllogisms will actually get you thinking more analytically, if you cultivate the habit.
The term can also be used more broadly to mean "deductive reasoning" or "a good argument", but to anyone who knows the intent of the word, using it thus may seem like ignorant misuse rather than intentional license.
Here's the thing. This word can backfire on you. It's one of those words that, while sounding real smart-like, can also come off as arrogant and elitist unless used seemlessly and appropriately in conversation. This can make it a difficult word to practice, unless of course you don't care what other people think, which you shouldn't...unless you really are arrogant and elitist, in which case you should listen to some damn criticism once in a while.
Anyway, the fun thing about this word is not so much using it as using it. How many opportunities are you really going to get to say the word "syllogism"? Not nearly as many as you'll get to actually form one as an argument. And that, friends, will make you sound smart without the unwanted side-effects. As a bonus, trying to come up with excuses to form syllogisms will actually get you thinking more analytically, if you cultivate the habit.
4.01.2005
I'm done.
That last post didn't want to post either. Maybe Blogger has some kind of filtering system wherein any post containing the words "hate" and "Blogger" in the same sentence are automagically banned from publishment. I have no reason to believe this one will work either. I'm just talking to myself. I do that a lot.
Side note: My other birthday presents from Chris, the tangible ones, came in the mail yesterday. I have to brag. Two DVDs: Finding Neverland (which I'd never seen before then, but Johnny Depp is always a safe bet...except for that Ninth Gate thing, but it was Polanski...how was he to know?) and Rosencrantz and Gildenstern Are Dead. That, my friends, was the jewel. I kinda feel bad for Finding Neverland, a wonderful movie that was overshadowed by the luminous glory of R&G. Dad will be sooooooo jealous. R&G wasn't even released on DVD until my birthday (which is why I just now got it).
In case any of you out there have not seen that movie, I'm begging you, for you own good, to watch it. See Gary Oldman in The Role He Was Born To Play. See Tim Roth being Tim Roth, only better. See Richard Dreyfuss being strange and funny and pulling it off. Learn how to play Questions. Find out if England really exists. You'll be glad you did.
Side note: My other birthday presents from Chris, the tangible ones, came in the mail yesterday. I have to brag. Two DVDs: Finding Neverland (which I'd never seen before then, but Johnny Depp is always a safe bet...except for that Ninth Gate thing, but it was Polanski...how was he to know?) and Rosencrantz and Gildenstern Are Dead. That, my friends, was the jewel. I kinda feel bad for Finding Neverland, a wonderful movie that was overshadowed by the luminous glory of R&G. Dad will be sooooooo jealous. R&G wasn't even released on DVD until my birthday (which is why I just now got it).
In case any of you out there have not seen that movie, I'm begging you, for you own good, to watch it. See Gary Oldman in The Role He Was Born To Play. See Tim Roth being Tim Roth, only better. See Richard Dreyfuss being strange and funny and pulling it off. Learn how to play Questions. Find out if England really exists. You'll be glad you did.
I hate you, Blogger
See those duplicate posts under there? I can't delete them. There were errors. That's all Blogger has to say about it. There were errors.
I'm getting all hyper-pissed about everything today. And it's only 9:30. I started yelling at the phone because Line 2 was ringing so damn loud while I was trying to make a call on Line 1. And since there's a phone in every room, there's nowhere I can go to escape. Plus, when you're on one line and the other starts ringing, it beeps in to interrupt your conversation for about two seconds, as if its ear-piercing howls are not enough to tell you that SOMEONE ELSE IS ON THE PHONE WHYDON'TYOUCARE?!?!?! And of course, the client I'm speaking to always says something vital in those two seconds and the conversation is derailed while I recover mid-sentence and try to figure out what they said from context clues.
"I'm dying, Liz, but you've been such a good service provider that I wanted to tell you where my hidden fortune is before I go. It's in the *BEEEEEEEEEEEEP*. Pretty good hiding place, huh? And now, I die."
I've been living with these phones since we got them six months or so ago. But today is a day of many straws. So if any of you were thinking about calling me at work, DON'T.
And then that Blogger thing. It was pissing me off last night because it wouldn't let me post that last one. Because, you know, there were errors. So I tried making a new one that said the same thing. Errors. Fine, this can wait 'til tomorrow. Today, I try to post it and lo, it works. Only it posted both of them. Of course. So I go back to my list of posts and tell it to delete one of them.
"There were errors."
So the funny thing is, the post was deleted from my list, but not from the site. And I can't very well try again to delete something that I, in fact, successfully deleted. Sort of.
I'm sure there's a way around this, but right now I just want to be mad at it. And the phone. And the people that didn't want to let me into their lane when mine was running out. And the guy who I can't reach on the phone for the second day in a row.
Really, guys, I'm the Incredible Hulk today. So if you were thinking about pulling any April Foolery, just take that into consideration. That's all I'm sayin'.
Update (10:48 a.m.) - Both the posts I was previously referring to have since disappeared. Yes, both of them. Maybe they'll come back. Blogger, you are dead to me.
Update (10:52 a.m.) - Upon publishing previous update, the referenced post did indeed come back. Only one of them this time. Looking on the bright side, if this is the most important problem I have to solve today, I will consider myself lucky.
I'm getting all hyper-pissed about everything today. And it's only 9:30. I started yelling at the phone because Line 2 was ringing so damn loud while I was trying to make a call on Line 1. And since there's a phone in every room, there's nowhere I can go to escape. Plus, when you're on one line and the other starts ringing, it beeps in to interrupt your conversation for about two seconds, as if its ear-piercing howls are not enough to tell you that SOMEONE ELSE IS ON THE PHONE WHYDON'TYOUCARE?!?!?! And of course, the client I'm speaking to always says something vital in those two seconds and the conversation is derailed while I recover mid-sentence and try to figure out what they said from context clues.
"I'm dying, Liz, but you've been such a good service provider that I wanted to tell you where my hidden fortune is before I go. It's in the *BEEEEEEEEEEEEP*. Pretty good hiding place, huh? And now, I die."
I've been living with these phones since we got them six months or so ago. But today is a day of many straws. So if any of you were thinking about calling me at work, DON'T.
And then that Blogger thing. It was pissing me off last night because it wouldn't let me post that last one. Because, you know, there were errors. So I tried making a new one that said the same thing. Errors. Fine, this can wait 'til tomorrow. Today, I try to post it and lo, it works. Only it posted both of them. Of course. So I go back to my list of posts and tell it to delete one of them.
"There were errors."
So the funny thing is, the post was deleted from my list, but not from the site. And I can't very well try again to delete something that I, in fact, successfully deleted. Sort of.
I'm sure there's a way around this, but right now I just want to be mad at it. And the phone. And the people that didn't want to let me into their lane when mine was running out. And the guy who I can't reach on the phone for the second day in a row.
Really, guys, I'm the Incredible Hulk today. So if you were thinking about pulling any April Foolery, just take that into consideration. That's all I'm sayin'.
Update (10:48 a.m.) - Both the posts I was previously referring to have since disappeared. Yes, both of them. Maybe they'll come back. Blogger, you are dead to me.
Update (10:52 a.m.) - Upon publishing previous update, the referenced post did indeed come back. Only one of them this time. Looking on the bright side, if this is the most important problem I have to solve today, I will consider myself lucky.
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