You're All Invited
Tomorrow is First Friday in downtown Vancouver, WA. I did not even know this event existed. I'm lame. My husband and his mother have put together a show of my late father-in-law's photographs. Bob posted his Dad's bio here.
We'll be at Cocopelli's Coffee & Tea at the Academy from 5-8pm. E 11th and C Street. I'll be the one standing by the wine.
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Yesterday I did this massive mailing for work. The mailing list was generated by a government agency. Here's a typical entry:
Youngman P. Kingpin, President & CEO
Overlord of Operational Services
NW Division, Ginormous Company International
Centre Square Triangle Building
10293 Northwest Grasshopper Ladybug Square South
Tenth Floor, Suite 1050 B
Mailstop 110-F-059323
Pumpkin Plains, Oregon 12345-6789
I'm barely exaggerating. Seriously, like there is no way that boring- but-important document (220 of them, to be exact) could be delivered without all that information.
It reminds me of when we were at our old office, a condominium, which I highly recommend as a workplace. When I gave our address out I'd always say, # 10. And the person would say, "Is that a suite or what?"
"No, it's a hole in the ground."
Do people really think the mailman is walking around with a piece of mail that says #10 going, "Oh dear, now what? Am I looking for a suite? A floor? A unit? A chamber?"
Our mail was delivered into bank of boxes in the lobby. Our box said: 10.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Keeping the Quiet
One of the main strategies used to make our marriage work is that we have two of everything. Two TVs, VCR/DVD players, two iPods, two computers, two bank accounts. Bob has his own room in the basement which includes a bathroom and shower and down there he can leave his clothes on the floor, dirty dishes on his desk, balled up wet towels on the bed. He can leave the TV, stereo and all the lights on and accumulate piles and piles and piles of crap. I don't care because I don't have to look at it. (We have a room together upstairs, in case you're wondering.)
One of Bob's favorite things to do is work on the computer, watch TV, listen to music, read a book and take a nap: all at the same time. He especially likes to have music on.
I mostly like music only when I'm driving. Sometimes if I'm doing an involved kitchen project or filing at the office. But mostly I like quiet.
Thus, over the years I have purchased many sets of headphones for Bob. Nice ones with super long cords so he can putter around his piles of crap with ease.
I have a friend at work who records bands in his house so I asked him for advice when I bought the last set and he took me to the music shop and he and the guy talked about the special features and comfort and whatever and let me try different pairs on. I bought a really nice fancy pair with an extra long cord.
Bob calls them his wife canceling headphones.
One of the main strategies used to make our marriage work is that we have two of everything. Two TVs, VCR/DVD players, two iPods, two computers, two bank accounts. Bob has his own room in the basement which includes a bathroom and shower and down there he can leave his clothes on the floor, dirty dishes on his desk, balled up wet towels on the bed. He can leave the TV, stereo and all the lights on and accumulate piles and piles and piles of crap. I don't care because I don't have to look at it. (We have a room together upstairs, in case you're wondering.)
One of Bob's favorite things to do is work on the computer, watch TV, listen to music, read a book and take a nap: all at the same time. He especially likes to have music on.
I mostly like music only when I'm driving. Sometimes if I'm doing an involved kitchen project or filing at the office. But mostly I like quiet.
Thus, over the years I have purchased many sets of headphones for Bob. Nice ones with super long cords so he can putter around his piles of crap with ease.
I have a friend at work who records bands in his house so I asked him for advice when I bought the last set and he took me to the music shop and he and the guy talked about the special features and comfort and whatever and let me try different pairs on. I bought a really nice fancy pair with an extra long cord.
Bob calls them his wife canceling headphones.
Monday, January 28, 2008
School Bus Days
It snowed at little last night, depending on where you live. I turned on the TV to try to get an idea of what the commute would be like and should I drive or take the bus and which bus should I take. Bob didn't have to go to school until 10am.
The TV is almost completely worthless because they find the 3 iciest intersections in a 60 mile radius and set up cameras and tell you over and over how awful it is out there.
The things I look for are whether the newspaper arrived on time, whether the driveway is icy and whether traffic is moving on the cross street I can see from my front yard. This morning: Yes, No, Yes.
I hopped in the car, left extra early and found a few snowy patches before I hit the main street which was completely fine. Except there was a freaking bridge lift and it took 25 minutes to get on the freeway. Also note: once I left my neighborhood I did not seen another flake of snow on the ground.
Lorelei wrote something about the school bus last week which made me remember riding the bus in 7-8 grades. My Mom was the librarian at my school and I'm pretty sure I rode to school with her when I was in 6th grade. Once I turned into a pain-in-the-ass 13 year old with equally pain-in-the-ass girlfriends, I was too cool to go to school with my Mom.
Our bus was over-crowded and we were miserable brats. We went through a series of bus drivers before it stuck with a guy who looked like he'd just gotten out of prison, smudgy tattoos and all. His name was Terrence and he also had an earring which was not a common look for men in the 70's. There were two places for pickup in the morning, one was 5 houses down from mine at the Foster's and one was at the front of the housing development. Picture tract homes in southern California.
You saved your place in line at the bus stop by putting your books down starting at the curb and leading back into the Foster's driveway. You could run down early and put your book there to save your place and then go home and get ready. It's hard to believe middle schoolers honored this system. As soon as my alarm went off I ran down with my book. But no matter how early I got there, this girl named Jeanette's book was already there first. Always. She must have put her book there before she went to bed.
The absurd thing is that the bus picked up our stop first. There was no reason to be all worked up about getting on first. The bummer was for the second stop because by then all the seats were full and you had to go to 3 in a seat and no one wanted to sit 3 in a seat so there was all this awkwardness, especially for the kids nobody liked because they had to sit down. It's just like on public transportation where people put their coat and pack next to them so no one can sit next to them. You'd have to ask them to move over and on the school bus they'd look the other way and ignore you.
Then Terrence would get involved and yell at the kid to sit down and yell at the kids who wouldn't move over. Once the bus got rolling there was lots of yelling and carrying on. One time we were so bratty that Terrence drove us all the way back to school and had the principal come out and yell at us.
When I got to high school there was no bus and I went to school with the Tudman's until I was old enough to drive myself.
It snowed at little last night, depending on where you live. I turned on the TV to try to get an idea of what the commute would be like and should I drive or take the bus and which bus should I take. Bob didn't have to go to school until 10am.
The TV is almost completely worthless because they find the 3 iciest intersections in a 60 mile radius and set up cameras and tell you over and over how awful it is out there.
The things I look for are whether the newspaper arrived on time, whether the driveway is icy and whether traffic is moving on the cross street I can see from my front yard. This morning: Yes, No, Yes.
I hopped in the car, left extra early and found a few snowy patches before I hit the main street which was completely fine. Except there was a freaking bridge lift and it took 25 minutes to get on the freeway. Also note: once I left my neighborhood I did not seen another flake of snow on the ground.
Lorelei wrote something about the school bus last week which made me remember riding the bus in 7-8 grades. My Mom was the librarian at my school and I'm pretty sure I rode to school with her when I was in 6th grade. Once I turned into a pain-in-the-ass 13 year old with equally pain-in-the-ass girlfriends, I was too cool to go to school with my Mom.
Our bus was over-crowded and we were miserable brats. We went through a series of bus drivers before it stuck with a guy who looked like he'd just gotten out of prison, smudgy tattoos and all. His name was Terrence and he also had an earring which was not a common look for men in the 70's. There were two places for pickup in the morning, one was 5 houses down from mine at the Foster's and one was at the front of the housing development. Picture tract homes in southern California.
You saved your place in line at the bus stop by putting your books down starting at the curb and leading back into the Foster's driveway. You could run down early and put your book there to save your place and then go home and get ready. It's hard to believe middle schoolers honored this system. As soon as my alarm went off I ran down with my book. But no matter how early I got there, this girl named Jeanette's book was already there first. Always. She must have put her book there before she went to bed.
The absurd thing is that the bus picked up our stop first. There was no reason to be all worked up about getting on first. The bummer was for the second stop because by then all the seats were full and you had to go to 3 in a seat and no one wanted to sit 3 in a seat so there was all this awkwardness, especially for the kids nobody liked because they had to sit down. It's just like on public transportation where people put their coat and pack next to them so no one can sit next to them. You'd have to ask them to move over and on the school bus they'd look the other way and ignore you.
Then Terrence would get involved and yell at the kid to sit down and yell at the kids who wouldn't move over. Once the bus got rolling there was lots of yelling and carrying on. One time we were so bratty that Terrence drove us all the way back to school and had the principal come out and yell at us.
When I got to high school there was no bus and I went to school with the Tudman's until I was old enough to drive myself.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
SR 500 EastI just finished my cocoa. I haven't been in the mood for cocoa in weeks and this morning I saw the gray fog out the window and my feet were ice cubes and it felt like the perfect moment.
I have been so busy the past couple of days, that "I'm working as fast as I can yet seem to be running in place" feeling.
On Friday I did my Trader Joe's run and finally managed to get to Target which was a completely unsatisfying experience. Every year some developer comes along and razes a farmhouse and paves over acres of open space and builds a new complex with a Target, Grocery Store, Office Supply Store, Electronics Store, Linens Store, Dollar Store and a Subway. I can walk out my front door and throw a rock in any direction and hit one of these complexes.
And whatever complex was built last year is then abandoned. Right now, the Target by the park and ride is the favored child and where I would normally go except I just didn't have a chance last week. So instead I went to the Target that's on the way home from Trader Joe's and this is now the derelict Target where merchandise goes to die. I was in the Valentine stuff and it looked like they were putting it away. I had to stand for a second and count on my fingers until I was sure we hadn't had Valentine's Day yet.
I couldn't find half the stuff I wanted and that made me too mad to wander around with my cart dazzled by all the pretty things and buy the stuff I didn't need.
When I got home, tree pruner guy was over. Our orchard is one apple tree and when we first moved here we knew these people who had tons of fruit trees and they talked us into working with their pruner and now all these years later, we still have our apple tree pruned every year. The other people have long moved and to make it worth his while to drive down here, he also prunes the tree out front which is a weeping cherry (possibly made-up name) and it looks a million times prettier since he's been pruning it.
While pruner guy was working I started my baking projects. I haven't had a chance to restock my cookies since before the holidays and I like to bring homemade chocolate chip cookies to work with me. I started on that and mixed together the dough for my no knead bread. I make this almost every weekend. Don't be impressed. It's insanely easy. I recommend substituting a half cup of whole wheat bread flour.
Meanwhile, the writers group met yesterday and I had been intending to make Keetha's Sweet Potato Cake. The recipe is on my fridge so I would remember that I need to buy the rum. But since I was already making the cookies, I thought I'd share cookies with the writers and try making these White Bark Balls instead and save the cake recipe for next time.
I originally save the Bark Ball recipe because it said peanut butter and chocolate and those are among Bob's favorite flavors of all time. I started pulling together this recipe as well.
Also, it was getting near dinner time. I had grabbed some potatoes and leeks at the store thinking I'd make some potato and leek soup since we haven't had that in ages. But I had already cut out a recipe for Quick Clam Chowder because it had the word "quick" in it and Bob loves clam chowder. That recipe didn't call for leeks but it called for a bunch of green onions so this wasn't a huge leap of creativity.
So now I have these various bowls and piles of ingredients gathering in different corners. For some reason, starting everything at once (yes, I have a lot of counterspace in my kitchen) seemed like a good idea. Then tree pruner guy came in and commented on the hedge between our house and house next door. The hedge has been completely neglected for years (well, we've made a few stabs at hacking it back but it makes your arms really tired and I'm afraid my husband will clip off a limb if he does it by himself) and he thought this might be something we should give some attention to. "Can you recommend someone?" I asked. I was thinking they'd need to bring in a team with chainsaws and a big truck and rakes.
"I can do it," he said. And he started right then.
When I got back to my cookies I couldn't remember whether I needed baking soda, salt or both. I was pretty sure I had added one but wasn't sure which so I added the soda and not the salt and ended up with salt-free cookies. They're edible but not magically delicious. They'll keep me at the office until I get around to making some more but I was burnt that I made a mistake.
The Bark Balls was an aggravating recipe because the first step is to take crispy rice cereal, peanut butter, butter and powdered sugar and mix together and press into balls. Visualize those ingredients. It didn't mix together at all. I had big blobs of butter that I tried to break up with my fingers and only the cereal that got stuck into the peanut butter would make a ball and wouldn't pick up more cereal. I kept adding peanut butter to the dry stuff in the bowl and melted some butter and added that, too until I'd managed some crumbling balls. The next step is to refrigerate but who has room in the fridge for that? I covered them and set them out in the shop.
The chowder came out splendid. The bread was only dough and we had no bread product so I whipped up some biscuits which ended up like everything I bake, ugly but tasting good. But by the time we'd eaten and I had all my messes cleaned up and dishes put away, it was bedtime.
Yesterday was time for step 2 of my Bark Balls. I melted some chocolate and rolled my peanut balls in it and this was the highlight of my day. I was glad Bob wasn't around because he wouldn't have been able to keep his hands out of it. I was melted chocolate up to my wrists and I would have bathed in it if I had the chance. I set the chocolate covered balls back out in the shop to chill and a couple hours later brought them out for the writers and our eyes rolled back in our heads. Really fabulous and worth all the trouble. I will make them again. There's got to be a peanut butter FAQ somewhere that will help me master this thing.
After the writers left I did a few chores and baked the bread from Friday. Then I started dinner which was this Red Lentil Soup with Lemon recipe. I still had bacon left from the chowder recipe so I decided that would add a nice flavor and cooked the onions with it. I don't like tomato paste so I threw in a can of fire roasted tomatoes and I added a turnip with the carrot because I had one that had lost its crispness. I didn't add the water and was too lazy to puree anything and I totally forgot the lemon which is sad since that's in the title of the recipe. Even Bob liked it and he's not a lentil fan.
Today I don't have to be anywhere or do anything so I'm writing an epic blogpost which if you are still here, thanks for reading. Now I'm going to bathe and then goof off some more.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Boarding
I still don't completely get the customs and ways for the bus.
I take a commuter bus so we all get on at the same stop. There are about 6 stops through downtown Portland for deboarding and/or boarding and then the bus goes back to Vancouver and we all exit at the same place where we started. (You know, after we work all day.)
The bus is rarely crowded. Yesterday was the first time I've ever seen someone stand and I think he wanted to because there were a few open seats.
I used to take a different express bus that left from the old downtown transit center. There was this lady who always went to the front of the line when we started boarding. I saw someone drop her off and she walked straight to the front of the line to board. Even though there were tons of places to sit, this irritated me and I gave her the stink eye.
What I think is funny is sometimes I'll arrive at the stop and a few other people will already be waiting. Sometimes when the bus arrives, they wait until I board. Or one or two will stand back and a couple will go ahead and board. Or someone else who came after me will go ahead and board first. It's like there's a weird hierarchy of boarding that everyone knows about but me.
For the trip home I wait at the corner which is a stop for at least a half dozen different buslines. When I see my bus pulling up, usually no one is stepping forward. So then I step forward and I'll notice a whole bunch of people who have been waiting longer than I have, lining up behind me.
Maybe I'm the pushy one. Maybe they're all standing behind me, nudging each other and rolling their eyes and whispering, "There's the 'me first' lady shoving to the front with her giant neon-green bag and paperback with a knight and unicorn on the cover."
I still don't completely get the customs and ways for the bus.
I take a commuter bus so we all get on at the same stop. There are about 6 stops through downtown Portland for deboarding and/or boarding and then the bus goes back to Vancouver and we all exit at the same place where we started. (You know, after we work all day.)
The bus is rarely crowded. Yesterday was the first time I've ever seen someone stand and I think he wanted to because there were a few open seats.
I used to take a different express bus that left from the old downtown transit center. There was this lady who always went to the front of the line when we started boarding. I saw someone drop her off and she walked straight to the front of the line to board. Even though there were tons of places to sit, this irritated me and I gave her the stink eye.
What I think is funny is sometimes I'll arrive at the stop and a few other people will already be waiting. Sometimes when the bus arrives, they wait until I board. Or one or two will stand back and a couple will go ahead and board. Or someone else who came after me will go ahead and board first. It's like there's a weird hierarchy of boarding that everyone knows about but me.
For the trip home I wait at the corner which is a stop for at least a half dozen different buslines. When I see my bus pulling up, usually no one is stepping forward. So then I step forward and I'll notice a whole bunch of people who have been waiting longer than I have, lining up behind me.
Maybe I'm the pushy one. Maybe they're all standing behind me, nudging each other and rolling their eyes and whispering, "There's the 'me first' lady shoving to the front with her giant neon-green bag and paperback with a knight and unicorn on the cover."
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Really Really Cold
Two Things I Don't Like About Winter:
1. Darkness. When I leave the house, it's dark. When I drive home, it's dark. On Friday the fuel guy came to make a delivery and I went out front to talk to him and it occurred to me that I couldn't remember the last time I stood in front of my house in the daylight. I made a point to walk around the whole thing and saw where some bulbs had sent a few sprouts to peek out of the mud.
2. Cold Water. The original footprint of our house is pretty small and we have a kickass oil furnace that blasts cozy hot air out of three major vents in the front half of the house. My office room is the small bedroom and if I have the door closed it actually can get too hot in there. In the 50s the house was remodeled and expanded to the back, creating the large kitchen and laundry room that were among the major selling points for us. (The other being the giant finished basement with bathroom which is Bob's room, or as Kim calls it, "Bob's apartment.") The back part of the house has two lonely little heating vents so the kitchen and laundry room are the coolest parts of the house.
This morning I was getting my lunch ready, and I turned on the sink to wash my hands and it was like dipping them in glacier water. I hate wasting a gallon of water waiting for tepid just to wash my hands, but sheesh, that stuff is cold.
One Thing I Like About Winter:
1. Chilled Foods. We have a room attached to the garage that we call "the shop" but nothing remotely shoplike occurs out there. That's where most of my gardening stuff is, two bikes, tons of empty boxes, quite a few full boxes, camp gear, a chest freezer, and so forth.
Over the weekend I made a big pot of soup and after dinner it was way too hot to stick in the refrigerator. I put it out in the shop and an hour later, perfectly chilled. I probably could have left it out there all night but since there was room in the fridge brought it inside. One Thanksgiving we let the turkey brine out there. The flip side of this is that I have no idea what's in the chest freezer right now because every time I walk out there, I'm so cold I just grab the first thing that looks good and run back in. Not like I'm going to put on a coat (or sometimes even shoes) just to paw through all the frozen pizza flavors.
I also like that you can buy groceries and do 12 other errands and all the food is just fine in the trunk.
Two Things I Don't Like About Winter:
1. Darkness. When I leave the house, it's dark. When I drive home, it's dark. On Friday the fuel guy came to make a delivery and I went out front to talk to him and it occurred to me that I couldn't remember the last time I stood in front of my house in the daylight. I made a point to walk around the whole thing and saw where some bulbs had sent a few sprouts to peek out of the mud.
2. Cold Water. The original footprint of our house is pretty small and we have a kickass oil furnace that blasts cozy hot air out of three major vents in the front half of the house. My office room is the small bedroom and if I have the door closed it actually can get too hot in there. In the 50s the house was remodeled and expanded to the back, creating the large kitchen and laundry room that were among the major selling points for us. (The other being the giant finished basement with bathroom which is Bob's room, or as Kim calls it, "Bob's apartment.") The back part of the house has two lonely little heating vents so the kitchen and laundry room are the coolest parts of the house.
This morning I was getting my lunch ready, and I turned on the sink to wash my hands and it was like dipping them in glacier water. I hate wasting a gallon of water waiting for tepid just to wash my hands, but sheesh, that stuff is cold.
One Thing I Like About Winter:
1. Chilled Foods. We have a room attached to the garage that we call "the shop" but nothing remotely shoplike occurs out there. That's where most of my gardening stuff is, two bikes, tons of empty boxes, quite a few full boxes, camp gear, a chest freezer, and so forth.
Over the weekend I made a big pot of soup and after dinner it was way too hot to stick in the refrigerator. I put it out in the shop and an hour later, perfectly chilled. I probably could have left it out there all night but since there was room in the fridge brought it inside. One Thanksgiving we let the turkey brine out there. The flip side of this is that I have no idea what's in the chest freezer right now because every time I walk out there, I'm so cold I just grab the first thing that looks good and run back in. Not like I'm going to put on a coat (or sometimes even shoes) just to paw through all the frozen pizza flavors.
I also like that you can buy groceries and do 12 other errands and all the food is just fine in the trunk.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Check out this cool bookmark I found in an old book.This morning I took Priscilla and the prints up to Debby's for matting and framing. Bob and Priscilla are putting together a show of my late father-in-law's photos in a local gallery and combining it with a celebration of Priscilla's [redacted, but ends in an "0"] birthday next month.
Bob was going to do this but since he still needs to take a nap after he wakes up and scratches himself, I decided to go instead. I've never been to Debby's. She lives about a half hour drive north of us in a gorgeous house in the mountains with a fabulous view. She shows her work in all kinds of art shows and trades goodies with other artists so every corner had some sort of beautiful treat to look at. It was fun to see her place and ask her questions about her art.
When I got home it was the usual "getting organized." I finally cleaned off my desk and compiled all my various lists onto one page. I have some sort of forgotten object/activity anxiety and when I worry I'll forget something, I write it down. I might write the same thing down 3 times. Then I have a pile of stickies and old envelopes and scrap paper and index cards all with anxious scrawls and exclamations points or highlighter on them. I also compiled my Target list and plan a major expedition for this week.
I'm working tomorrow. Our firm is practically the only business in the building that's open. No lines for lunch! Traffic is light. Good side to everything.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Old Europe
I was scanning some more old photos this morning and chose this gem to continue the theme of bitchin old cars. I think it's France around 1978 and I can't tell you any more without doing some homework and not in the mood right now.
I turned my books 08 page into a blog so that my three loyal readers could subscribe as a feed. If I've managed to do anything right, you can also still view the page by clicking this link.
I'm still only at the 3rd grade level when it comes to the feed thing so if you need help, you'd be better off asking someone else. I use Google Reader.
I also hate the template and my attempts to customize made me want to brain myself with the keyboard. I have no idea how I set up my original page. I'm sure a large quantity of red wine was involved. Will fix template some other day, probably in the far, far future.
Cold and drippy out. We're off to take my dear husband to the doctor. He's still down with the crud and this is too long.
Friday, January 18, 2008
I added a few more tornado damage photos. This should fulfill all your damaged tree photo needs for the time being.
The guy across the street had this cool old truck so I had to visit with him and take a few photos. He's a treesmith and does hazardous tree removal. I'm sure this will be a good month for him.
Today's a lazy day here. My spouse came home with the crud on Wednesday night. He was standing the kitchen when I got home and started whining before I even put my purse down. I wasn't too sympathetic until I felt his burning forehead. For the record: when I'm really sick I get whiny, too. He also skipped dinner. He's had a couple achy, fevery days but todays he's perked up a bit. Still, we're going to lay low and stay close to home this weekend.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
The Bridge Across Forever
I was planning to go to yoga tonight so I drove this morning.
There was an accident on the bridge and the backup to get on the freeway was bad enough that I considered taking a day off from work. I just didn't have the stomach to sit in my car and roll forward in painful six-inch increments while cars coming in from all angles want to merge and then when finally arriving within sight of the freeway, fending off all the Lexus (plural: Lexi?) who bypass the line and drive to the front and turn on their turn signal, like they had no idea there was a line and can't they just sneak in right there because they drive a Lexus and don't care that you've been trying to get on the freeway for the past 45 minutes.
And I couldn't find a traffic report to save my life. Does AM radio still exist? At one point I had all the local news channels programmed in for just these types of mornings. "Traffic on the 9s" "Traffic on the 7s" you just kept hitting the buttons until you found the traffic report for the current minute. This morning all I could raise was static and churchy programs.
So I drove all the way back to the transit center thinking, at least I won't be stressed and I can read my book (The Guns of Avalon Fabulous) while we crawl over the bridge. Of course I couldn't find my book when I got on the bus. It didn't take as long as I thought (including driving back and forth being a wuss about the gridlock: 1 hr 20 minutes.) I guess the accident cleared quickly but, whatever. I'm here.
Last night we saw Colson Whitehead at Arts & Lectures. I remember when The Intuitionist came out it sounded like a book I'd want to read and it was on the list for a long time before I picked it up at the library. As I recall, I didn't try very hard, but I didn't get into it. Bob read a different one of his books last weekend and hated it.
When we walked out of the lecture last night we laughed because of all the authors so far, this is the one whose books we liked the least but it was our favorite lecture. He was really funny and doesn't take himself too seriously. How often do you ever hear of a writer who likes television and puts in his bio that as a kid he loved Stephen King and Stan Lee? I'm going to try another one of his books.
I was planning to go to yoga tonight so I drove this morning.
There was an accident on the bridge and the backup to get on the freeway was bad enough that I considered taking a day off from work. I just didn't have the stomach to sit in my car and roll forward in painful six-inch increments while cars coming in from all angles want to merge and then when finally arriving within sight of the freeway, fending off all the Lexus (plural: Lexi?) who bypass the line and drive to the front and turn on their turn signal, like they had no idea there was a line and can't they just sneak in right there because they drive a Lexus and don't care that you've been trying to get on the freeway for the past 45 minutes.
And I couldn't find a traffic report to save my life. Does AM radio still exist? At one point I had all the local news channels programmed in for just these types of mornings. "Traffic on the 9s" "Traffic on the 7s" you just kept hitting the buttons until you found the traffic report for the current minute. This morning all I could raise was static and churchy programs.
So I drove all the way back to the transit center thinking, at least I won't be stressed and I can read my book (The Guns of Avalon Fabulous) while we crawl over the bridge. Of course I couldn't find my book when I got on the bus. It didn't take as long as I thought (including driving back and forth being a wuss about the gridlock: 1 hr 20 minutes.) I guess the accident cleared quickly but, whatever. I'm here.
Last night we saw Colson Whitehead at Arts & Lectures. I remember when The Intuitionist came out it sounded like a book I'd want to read and it was on the list for a long time before I picked it up at the library. As I recall, I didn't try very hard, but I didn't get into it. Bob read a different one of his books last weekend and hated it.
When we walked out of the lecture last night we laughed because of all the authors so far, this is the one whose books we liked the least but it was our favorite lecture. He was really funny and doesn't take himself too seriously. How often do you ever hear of a writer who likes television and puts in his bio that as a kid he loved Stephen King and Stan Lee? I'm going to try another one of his books.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Temp
Shortly before I graduated from college I met a woman who worked as an office temp. I don't remember her living situation but it was either with tolerant parents or in a series of rundown hovels. Actually, she may have been one of those scary people who asks if they can crash on your couch for a weekend and never leaves. She didn't do that to me.
She would do temp jobs until she saved a pile of money, then she'd travel until it ran out. Then she'd return to the temping until she had enough for the next trip.
I thought this sounded fabulous except I did not have tolerant parents and was not the sort of person who would be happy moving from hovel to hovel. Also, when I graduated from college I had only very minor office skills, I could type, but not fast enough to impress anyone, and even with fast, my accuracy was doodoo. I never did any temp work.
Now that I work in an office that employs temp workers on a regular basis, I cannot help but think that it would be a horrible job.
Imagine: every new job would be like your first day at work. You don't know anyone's name or where anything is or how anything works or the weird obsessive quirks of the person you have to work for. At least if it's your new job people might talk to you but no one pays attention to the temp, unless she's screwing up. (I say "she" because I can't remember ever seeing a male temp.) Plus either everyone would be foisting the worst busy work on you or else you'd only be called because there was some giant project and you'd be working a deadline under a learning curve. Or else you'd just be sitting there watching the clock and waiting for the day to end.
I always try to talk to the temps and at least find out their names. At the end of one day I asked a temp if it was the longest day of her life and she very cheerfully said, "Oh no, everyone is really nice at this office." Geez, what would a bad office be like? I think you need to be of a certain personality, unflinching and confident, to succeed as a temp.
I never would have been good at it.
Shortly before I graduated from college I met a woman who worked as an office temp. I don't remember her living situation but it was either with tolerant parents or in a series of rundown hovels. Actually, she may have been one of those scary people who asks if they can crash on your couch for a weekend and never leaves. She didn't do that to me.
She would do temp jobs until she saved a pile of money, then she'd travel until it ran out. Then she'd return to the temping until she had enough for the next trip.
I thought this sounded fabulous except I did not have tolerant parents and was not the sort of person who would be happy moving from hovel to hovel. Also, when I graduated from college I had only very minor office skills, I could type, but not fast enough to impress anyone, and even with fast, my accuracy was doodoo. I never did any temp work.
Now that I work in an office that employs temp workers on a regular basis, I cannot help but think that it would be a horrible job.
Imagine: every new job would be like your first day at work. You don't know anyone's name or where anything is or how anything works or the weird obsessive quirks of the person you have to work for. At least if it's your new job people might talk to you but no one pays attention to the temp, unless she's screwing up. (I say "she" because I can't remember ever seeing a male temp.) Plus either everyone would be foisting the worst busy work on you or else you'd only be called because there was some giant project and you'd be working a deadline under a learning curve. Or else you'd just be sitting there watching the clock and waiting for the day to end.
I always try to talk to the temps and at least find out their names. At the end of one day I asked a temp if it was the longest day of her life and she very cheerfully said, "Oh no, everyone is really nice at this office." Geez, what would a bad office be like? I think you need to be of a certain personality, unflinching and confident, to succeed as a temp.
I never would have been good at it.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Foods You Don't Eat
I forgot to mention that with my potato soup recipe, I threw a couple of parsnips in there. My husband came back from the market once, a bit confused and he had parsnips. I think he grabbed them thinking they were turnips. Which we do eat. Or maybe some other vegetable that we do not. They've been taking up room in the crisper ever since.
Since I'm trying to clear the fridge and cupboards of the odds and ends, and since I saw a recipe with mashed potatoes and parsnips, I figured I could add the parsnips to the potato soup. Some cooks call this creative. I usually think of it as lame.
My Mom hates parsnips. If you drove within 20 miles of the vegetable factory on the day they were dicing parsnips my Mom would gag if she was in the car. I once went to a family meal that my Mom wasn't even attending and the cook informed me very carefully that there were parsnips in the roasted vegetables in case there was a problem.
As a result I've eaten very few parsnips in my life and although I am personally ambivalent, I don't really eat them because she wouldn't. I put them in this soup and I think they knocked it down from a solid A- to a B. They have a sharpness that's just not necessary.
Another food I used to not eat because of my sister is mangos. She's violently allergic. I hope she's not reading this because her eyes are probably swelling up just by seeing the word. But then I learned that mangos are like the food of the gods. So I eat them at home where she can't be harmed. Giant carbon footprint be damned.
My Dad hates tuna and I hate tuna, too. It's nasty. My husband likes it and if he makes it, he has to eat it outside. Or in his car.
I can't think of anything my husband hates. Most tomato heavy dishes disagree with him, as do melons which is a major bummer. He also isn't fond of lentils or chard so whenever I know he's going to be out of town, that's the menu.
I hate swiss cheese. I think it smells like throw-up. I also don't like most pork products because the fat disagrees with me.
I forgot to mention that with my potato soup recipe, I threw a couple of parsnips in there. My husband came back from the market once, a bit confused and he had parsnips. I think he grabbed them thinking they were turnips. Which we do eat. Or maybe some other vegetable that we do not. They've been taking up room in the crisper ever since.
Since I'm trying to clear the fridge and cupboards of the odds and ends, and since I saw a recipe with mashed potatoes and parsnips, I figured I could add the parsnips to the potato soup. Some cooks call this creative. I usually think of it as lame.
My Mom hates parsnips. If you drove within 20 miles of the vegetable factory on the day they were dicing parsnips my Mom would gag if she was in the car. I once went to a family meal that my Mom wasn't even attending and the cook informed me very carefully that there were parsnips in the roasted vegetables in case there was a problem.
As a result I've eaten very few parsnips in my life and although I am personally ambivalent, I don't really eat them because she wouldn't. I put them in this soup and I think they knocked it down from a solid A- to a B. They have a sharpness that's just not necessary.
Another food I used to not eat because of my sister is mangos. She's violently allergic. I hope she's not reading this because her eyes are probably swelling up just by seeing the word. But then I learned that mangos are like the food of the gods. So I eat them at home where she can't be harmed. Giant carbon footprint be damned.
My Dad hates tuna and I hate tuna, too. It's nasty. My husband likes it and if he makes it, he has to eat it outside. Or in his car.
I can't think of anything my husband hates. Most tomato heavy dishes disagree with him, as do melons which is a major bummer. He also isn't fond of lentils or chard so whenever I know he's going to be out of town, that's the menu.
I hate swiss cheese. I think it smells like throw-up. I also don't like most pork products because the fat disagrees with me.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Sunday Night Wrap Up
For the first time in eons I spent my entire weekend (including Friday) chained to the computer, writing. It was both very satisfying and slightly dismaying as now it is Sunday after 5pm and I'm running around doing laundry and cleaning up piles of crap and trying to figure out what I'm going to bring for lunch next week. (Money, sounds easiest.)
I just found a post I wrote yesterday and never posted. Will incorporate into this message. I also have additional photos for Tornado Coverage 2008 but little inclination to organize right now so that will have to wait for at least a day or two.
Here's the wrap up:
1. I have Word 04 for Mac on my machine. Is it just me or is this the biggest piece of crap in the Universe, known and unknown? It automatically doesn't things for me that no sane person would ever want to do. It displays this goofy square and lightning bolt when I make certain formatting changes which cover what I'm trying to see. Certain cutting, pasting and deletions hang for up to three seconds before going through. I don't believe I can adequately express how much I hate this program. Why has Microsoft conquered the world with its crappy stuff?
2. I did the grocery shopping on Friday morning and my husband had written on the list, "Good mustard." I didn't see anything on the shelves called "good mustard." What do you think that could be? One time he wrote "good snacks." I guess as opposed to all the bad snacks I've been stocking up on.
3. Every once in awhile I wake up in the morning and I can't help but think, "Wow, what an excellent night's sleep. The past few nights have been great."
Then, it's like an emergency signal is triggered in the brain and travels to the insomnia portion and says, "This must not continue," and then I have a night or nights of the opposite.
Thursday night I had indigestion and drank gallons of water while reading half a book. Friday night I had weird dreams, like Jack Nicholson was yelling at me and Courtney Cox and Jennifer Anniston needed a ride someplace. I also had to go to the bathroom at least 4 times. Last night was another indigestion night. Geez, you hit about 35 and you can't eat *anything* anymore. At this rate pretty soon we'll be eating boiled potatoes three times a day.
4. I made two new recipes this weekend and when I was at the store, the only ingredients I could remember were the ones in the title. I had a recipe for Potato and Pancetta chowder and another for Pumpkin, Rice and Black Bean Soup. I should also explain I was trying to clear some random ingredients out of the fridge.
When I got ready to make the potato and pancetta I discovered that (a) I didn't have pancetta, I had prosciutto (whatever, they both are Italian and start with "p" right?) and (b) the recipe called for mushrooms (?) and a leek. A leek is an onion, right? I also didn't have half-and-half but an extra splash of milk would work.
It tasted delicious which is the only measure of success in this house.
When I pulled out the other recipe I learned I was supposed to have 2 limes, fresh cilantro and 2 fresh chiles. We had some from concentrate lime juice in the fridge, and a lemon, some ancient dried cilantro and I used a 4 oz. can of roasted green chiles. The recipe called for uncooked rice but I wanted to clear out a container of leftover cooked and I was supposed to use chipotle chili powder and I used ancho. They're all chiles, right?
This also came out quite spectacularly delicious but, as mentioned above, gave us heartburn. Him more than me. When he has heartburn he groans in his sleep thus, I spent the night curled up next to groaning man.
I have more notes here but I have to try to catch up on my chores.
For the first time in eons I spent my entire weekend (including Friday) chained to the computer, writing. It was both very satisfying and slightly dismaying as now it is Sunday after 5pm and I'm running around doing laundry and cleaning up piles of crap and trying to figure out what I'm going to bring for lunch next week. (Money, sounds easiest.)
I just found a post I wrote yesterday and never posted. Will incorporate into this message. I also have additional photos for Tornado Coverage 2008 but little inclination to organize right now so that will have to wait for at least a day or two.
Here's the wrap up:
1. I have Word 04 for Mac on my machine. Is it just me or is this the biggest piece of crap in the Universe, known and unknown? It automatically doesn't things for me that no sane person would ever want to do. It displays this goofy square and lightning bolt when I make certain formatting changes which cover what I'm trying to see. Certain cutting, pasting and deletions hang for up to three seconds before going through. I don't believe I can adequately express how much I hate this program. Why has Microsoft conquered the world with its crappy stuff?
2. I did the grocery shopping on Friday morning and my husband had written on the list, "Good mustard." I didn't see anything on the shelves called "good mustard." What do you think that could be? One time he wrote "good snacks." I guess as opposed to all the bad snacks I've been stocking up on.
3. Every once in awhile I wake up in the morning and I can't help but think, "Wow, what an excellent night's sleep. The past few nights have been great."
Then, it's like an emergency signal is triggered in the brain and travels to the insomnia portion and says, "This must not continue," and then I have a night or nights of the opposite.
Thursday night I had indigestion and drank gallons of water while reading half a book. Friday night I had weird dreams, like Jack Nicholson was yelling at me and Courtney Cox and Jennifer Anniston needed a ride someplace. I also had to go to the bathroom at least 4 times. Last night was another indigestion night. Geez, you hit about 35 and you can't eat *anything* anymore. At this rate pretty soon we'll be eating boiled potatoes three times a day.
4. I made two new recipes this weekend and when I was at the store, the only ingredients I could remember were the ones in the title. I had a recipe for Potato and Pancetta chowder and another for Pumpkin, Rice and Black Bean Soup. I should also explain I was trying to clear some random ingredients out of the fridge.
When I got ready to make the potato and pancetta I discovered that (a) I didn't have pancetta, I had prosciutto (whatever, they both are Italian and start with "p" right?) and (b) the recipe called for mushrooms (?) and a leek. A leek is an onion, right? I also didn't have half-and-half but an extra splash of milk would work.
It tasted delicious which is the only measure of success in this house.
When I pulled out the other recipe I learned I was supposed to have 2 limes, fresh cilantro and 2 fresh chiles. We had some from concentrate lime juice in the fridge, and a lemon, some ancient dried cilantro and I used a 4 oz. can of roasted green chiles. The recipe called for uncooked rice but I wanted to clear out a container of leftover cooked and I was supposed to use chipotle chili powder and I used ancho. They're all chiles, right?
This also came out quite spectacularly delicious but, as mentioned above, gave us heartburn. Him more than me. When he has heartburn he groans in his sleep thus, I spent the night curled up next to groaning man.
I have more notes here but I have to try to catch up on my chores.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Tornado Report: 2008
Tornados are rare around here. The guy on the news says that Washington averages one tornado a year somewhere in the state.
My mother-in-law is one of the people that was injured in 1972 in the deadliest tornado ever to hit the West Coast.
Yesterday, the tornado touched down in her next door neighbor's yard.
You've got to wonder what the Universe is trying to tell her.
Is it: "Don't worry, you're not going to go in a tornado."
Or: "Damn! Missed again."
NOAA has a map of the tornado path here. If you divide the map into quarters vertically, her house is around the 1st quarter mark.
Bob went over there as soon as he knew what was going on, within two hours of the event. She was a model of calm. She had already talked to insurance and scheduled her yard crew. Also, an army of people were already papering the neighborhood with business cards and fliers offering services. There has never been a better time to own a chipper and a chainsaw in SW Washington.
Last night, my drive from the park-n-ride took me across the storm path but it was dark and I didn't see much except a lot of debris and a few signs that blew over.
This morning I went to Priscilla's neighborhood and wow, kind-of took my breath away. Chunks of limbs and debris are everywhere. Giant trees tipped over or their tops snapped off. You've got to wonder what it sounded like. Everywhere you look along her street there's some kind of crew cleaning up limbs, sawing up stumps. Also all kinds of utility people and cherry-pickers. Quite a sight.
I arrived around 11am and one of the guys helping in her yard (they had 6 people) said they already had most of the backyard cleaned up. It still looked like a mess to me.
Priscilla said she heard loud booms and crashing against her skylight. As she backed away she heard crashing against her second skylight. She decided to hightail it to the basement and was grateful to see no trees in her living room when she finally emerged.
I talked to another guy who said that one of the neighbors saw the tornado touch down in the next door neighbor's yard and said it was instant violence like the trees were stuck in a blender.
Photoset of tornado damage here.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Here's the stuff from behind my desk. No favorite red pen. The only logical conclusion is that someone stole it. Also no gum. What I thought was gum was a lens cleaning tissue.
On Monday night I jammed one of my toes at yoga. Basically it was the equivalent of kicking a wall and my toe swelled a tiny bit and I took a photo of that because what could be more fascinating? Sadly, my feet are not photogenic and instead of looking so cute like they look in real life, they look like frankenfeet so I'm keeping close-ups of my feet private. It's still hard to curl my toes but I think I'll make it. I have this shoulder thing too so Monday might it was like a 100 year old lady just trying to get through it.This is my desk. I had to take everything off of it and then lay down with my tongs and jam my hand between the edge of the desk and the wall to rescue my lens cleaning tissue. I really thought I could make a better post out of this when I sat down but now I'm out of time.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Office Tips
Today I remembered to bring the tongs in.
Yikes, in my search for a photo illustration I found this: www.tongs.com your resource for snake handling equipment. I had no idea there was enough snake handling going on that we needed a resource. Now I'm too distracted to find a photo.
They're regular old spring-loaded cheap-metal tongs. The kind you use in the kitchen for grabbing and flipping hot things.
I brought them to the office because I've dropped a whole bunch of stuff – including the office tongs I bought specifically for this purpose – behind my desk and my arms are too short to reach the stuff and the desk is too big and covered with crap for me to move.
Besides tongs, there are some tissues, a pack of gum, paper clips (unlikely I can pick them up with the tongs, but I will try), rubberband (ditto), my favorite red pen, and no doubt some wonderful surprises.
Big Wednesday here.
Today I remembered to bring the tongs in.
Yikes, in my search for a photo illustration I found this: www.tongs.com your resource for snake handling equipment. I had no idea there was enough snake handling going on that we needed a resource. Now I'm too distracted to find a photo.
They're regular old spring-loaded cheap-metal tongs. The kind you use in the kitchen for grabbing and flipping hot things.
I brought them to the office because I've dropped a whole bunch of stuff – including the office tongs I bought specifically for this purpose – behind my desk and my arms are too short to reach the stuff and the desk is too big and covered with crap for me to move.
Besides tongs, there are some tissues, a pack of gum, paper clips (unlikely I can pick them up with the tongs, but I will try), rubberband (ditto), my favorite red pen, and no doubt some wonderful surprises.
Big Wednesday here.
Monday, January 07, 2008
If I Could Marry A Show
Warning: this is a total nerdcore post. You might just quit reading right now.
If I could marry a show, I would marry Dr. Who.
I am a total Dr. Who newbie. Me sitting here talking about Dr. Who is like someone watching 10 episodes of Buffy from season 5, and then trying to explain the Buffy-Xander-Willow dynamic.
If you're as interested as I am, you can do what I did and take a day off of work and read the Wikipedia entry and related links. It says there are 738 episodes. 738!
I think I've seen 14.
Dr. Who is kind-of like James Bond, in that different actors come along and play the same character. Except in Dr. Who they acknowledge that they look different and there's an explanation which is in the article. I'm still not completely clear on it, myself.
My first Dr. Who was with the Ninth Doctor played by Christopher Eccleston whose name I always want to make much harder to pronounce that it is. I loved this Doctor very much and was greatly dismayed when after one season he changed into the Tenth Doctor. Two episodes later I was in love with the new one.
I also love all the guest stars like this weekend we had Giles (Buffy), Beth from Moonlight and one of the Doctor's earlier companions which I'm sure would have been more meaningful if I wasn't such a newbie, sort of like when Faith turned up again in the last season of Buffy.
There's a Doctor Who marathon coming up and I expect to see smoke coming out of my DVR by the time it's over.
In other nerd news, I spent most of yesterday morning on the couch under a blanket reading a book about dragons and the Napolenic wars. No, I'm not making this up.
One last tidbit, they must be really hurting over there on the SciFi Wire since today's headlines include something about a trailer for the new Star Trek movie (A remake of the old series. If anyone can think of a compelling reason why this remake should happen that doesn't include a dollar sign, please let me know.) Another announcement that Governor Arnold will not be appearing or in anyway connected to the Terminator 4 movie like anyone cares.
And finally an announcement that Patricia Arquette won't cross the picket line to attend the Golden Globes. I thought nobody was attending the Golden Globes. The Golden Globes are stupid. It would be like if a bunch of nerds at school started their own prom and elected their own prom queen and everybody acted like it was just as important as the real prom even though they knew it was just a pretend prom.
Warning: this is a total nerdcore post. You might just quit reading right now.
If I could marry a show, I would marry Dr. Who.
I am a total Dr. Who newbie. Me sitting here talking about Dr. Who is like someone watching 10 episodes of Buffy from season 5, and then trying to explain the Buffy-Xander-Willow dynamic.
If you're as interested as I am, you can do what I did and take a day off of work and read the Wikipedia entry and related links. It says there are 738 episodes. 738!
I think I've seen 14.
Dr. Who is kind-of like James Bond, in that different actors come along and play the same character. Except in Dr. Who they acknowledge that they look different and there's an explanation which is in the article. I'm still not completely clear on it, myself.
My first Dr. Who was with the Ninth Doctor played by Christopher Eccleston whose name I always want to make much harder to pronounce that it is. I loved this Doctor very much and was greatly dismayed when after one season he changed into the Tenth Doctor. Two episodes later I was in love with the new one.
I also love all the guest stars like this weekend we had Giles (Buffy), Beth from Moonlight and one of the Doctor's earlier companions which I'm sure would have been more meaningful if I wasn't such a newbie, sort of like when Faith turned up again in the last season of Buffy.
There's a Doctor Who marathon coming up and I expect to see smoke coming out of my DVR by the time it's over.
In other nerd news, I spent most of yesterday morning on the couch under a blanket reading a book about dragons and the Napolenic wars. No, I'm not making this up.
One last tidbit, they must be really hurting over there on the SciFi Wire since today's headlines include something about a trailer for the new Star Trek movie (A remake of the old series. If anyone can think of a compelling reason why this remake should happen that doesn't include a dollar sign, please let me know.) Another announcement that Governor Arnold will not be appearing or in anyway connected to the Terminator 4 movie like anyone cares.
And finally an announcement that Patricia Arquette won't cross the picket line to attend the Golden Globes. I thought nobody was attending the Golden Globes. The Golden Globes are stupid. It would be like if a bunch of nerds at school started their own prom and elected their own prom queen and everybody acted like it was just as important as the real prom even though they knew it was just a pretend prom.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
A River Runs Through It
Klamath River, December 07
I've been cranking on my writing project for two full days now and I would like to weep. My neck is ruined, my mouse-arm feels like someone sat on it and my eyeballs are dried and shriveled and rolled back in my head. I'm not done but for health and safety sake I am going to have a no computer day tomorrow.
Beside, tomorrow is bluegrass day.
Friday, January 04, 2008
My First "Real"Job: Part 2
When I arrived at my new position I learned that it we were not going to be providing administrative services for contractors although that might happen some day. We were starting a new contractors license school.
Scary Man was going through an extremely acrimonious divorce. Remember the part about paranoid that everyone is screwing him? I don't know the story but I am guessing that he had to turn the business over to her as part of the proceedings. Of course while that was going on, he was hand-picking employees from her business and bringing them with him as he secretly started the new one.
At the time I found the situation amusing and didn't really grasp how appalling it was. Plus, I was one of those people who learned about accumulating debt the hard way and I had a car payment and credit card bills to pay and not a lot of confidence about what I could do in the world so I needed the job. And again, I liked the actual work.
I had to hire and train staff for the satellite schools and create new materials for the classes. I worked long hours which Scary Man assured me would be rewarded once the business got up and running.
Mrs. Scary Man was no dummy and quickly figured out what he was up to and there was a big ugly period with lawyers and depositions and unpleasantness. I guess they sorted it out. I was not happy about being dragged through it.
It did not take long for the job to go from fun to hideous. The long hours were a drag and there was never any reward. If you wanted to leave 15 minutes early so you could go to the airport and catch a flight because someone died, Scary Man would remind you for the next three months that he gave you 15 free minutes. I once had a hideous flu where I was passed out on the couch with a fever for three days and he called me at home and asked why I wasn't at work.
My position evolved into something where I was in charge of everything, except sales, but had zero authority to do anything. I was in charge of supplies. I was in charge of complaints and refunds and company policy was don't issue a refund unless the word lawsuit comes up or your life is threatened. Having contractor students and their wives calling me a bitch: that never got easier.
I was in charge of personnel. The staff jobs paid terrible and had terrible hours and the turnover was mind-bending. I had to keep those seats filled.
Scary Man would bitch me out if he didn’t like the help wanted ad. He would bitch me out if he didn't like the person I hired. He'd bitch me out if an employee made a mistake because he said I wasn't training them. He asked me to make an office manual that employees could use for reference and then accused me of making it easy for someone to steal the business procedures.
The only person stealing the business procedures to start a stupid contractors license school was him.
In less than a year, I started to look for other work. Scary Man offered me a position of being the company manager which I think meant that for another $100 a month, I could be in charge of the salesmen, too. I declined and said that I felt I'd outgrown the job and wanted to move on. He said he understood.
Then one day I took an hour and 15 minute lunch because I was at a job interview and when I returned he fired me on the spot. Said I wasn't doing my job. Took my keys. Had the check ready. Good-bye.
I once filled out a job application that asked if I'd ever been fired for a job and why. "Yes. The business owner was an unreasonable prick," struck me as an unprofessional response. What should I have said?
When I arrived at my new position I learned that it we were not going to be providing administrative services for contractors although that might happen some day. We were starting a new contractors license school.
Scary Man was going through an extremely acrimonious divorce. Remember the part about paranoid that everyone is screwing him? I don't know the story but I am guessing that he had to turn the business over to her as part of the proceedings. Of course while that was going on, he was hand-picking employees from her business and bringing them with him as he secretly started the new one.
At the time I found the situation amusing and didn't really grasp how appalling it was. Plus, I was one of those people who learned about accumulating debt the hard way and I had a car payment and credit card bills to pay and not a lot of confidence about what I could do in the world so I needed the job. And again, I liked the actual work.
I had to hire and train staff for the satellite schools and create new materials for the classes. I worked long hours which Scary Man assured me would be rewarded once the business got up and running.
Mrs. Scary Man was no dummy and quickly figured out what he was up to and there was a big ugly period with lawyers and depositions and unpleasantness. I guess they sorted it out. I was not happy about being dragged through it.
It did not take long for the job to go from fun to hideous. The long hours were a drag and there was never any reward. If you wanted to leave 15 minutes early so you could go to the airport and catch a flight because someone died, Scary Man would remind you for the next three months that he gave you 15 free minutes. I once had a hideous flu where I was passed out on the couch with a fever for three days and he called me at home and asked why I wasn't at work.
My position evolved into something where I was in charge of everything, except sales, but had zero authority to do anything. I was in charge of supplies. I was in charge of complaints and refunds and company policy was don't issue a refund unless the word lawsuit comes up or your life is threatened. Having contractor students and their wives calling me a bitch: that never got easier.
I was in charge of personnel. The staff jobs paid terrible and had terrible hours and the turnover was mind-bending. I had to keep those seats filled.
Scary Man would bitch me out if he didn’t like the help wanted ad. He would bitch me out if he didn't like the person I hired. He'd bitch me out if an employee made a mistake because he said I wasn't training them. He asked me to make an office manual that employees could use for reference and then accused me of making it easy for someone to steal the business procedures.
The only person stealing the business procedures to start a stupid contractors license school was him.
In less than a year, I started to look for other work. Scary Man offered me a position of being the company manager which I think meant that for another $100 a month, I could be in charge of the salesmen, too. I declined and said that I felt I'd outgrown the job and wanted to move on. He said he understood.
Then one day I took an hour and 15 minute lunch because I was at a job interview and when I returned he fired me on the spot. Said I wasn't doing my job. Took my keys. Had the check ready. Good-bye.
I once filled out a job application that asked if I'd ever been fired for a job and why. "Yes. The business owner was an unreasonable prick," struck me as an unprofessional response. What should I have said?
Thursday, January 03, 2008
My First "Real"Job: Part 1
My first job when I graduated from college was working as a research assistant for a license exam prep school. At that time, in California, in order to get a contractor's license, you needed four years of experience and you had to complete a lengthy application and take two exams. One was a general exam everyone had to take that covered topics like bonding and liens. The second one was for the specific trade, for example, general contracting, plumbing or swimming pools.
The school advertised on the radio and individuals, or often, their girlfriends/wives, would call in for more information. We would tell them that the program director was out and collect all their information so he could return the call as soon as he returned. This was called "a lead."
The program director was a sleezeball salesman whose only reason for living was the commission. If he thought we could massage the qualifications and get that guy an exam date, he would want that guy's money. I say guy because the entire time I worked there only one woman came through the program.
Part of the big sales pitch was that if you failed the exam, you'd get your tuition refunded. The thing is, if you looked at the sign up sheet, only about 20% of what you paid was considered tuition. Everything else was admissions fee, books and materials fee, license processing fee and so forth. They also liked to give away free courses for additional licenses, say you wanted plumbing and well drilling. Few people ever returned for the additional license.
The school would prepare the license application and the student would sit through a series of taped classes and take practice exams that were created by people like me, recent college graduates who knew squat about the contracting industry. We would extract information from books about carpentry and plumbing and put them into taped classes and tests.
I don't think one person ever asked about the source material for the classes and exams.
I actually liked the work. I liked researching new materials and working with the students and answering their questions.
The salesmen were loathsome cads. There was one guy who regularly told new students, "Stop by any time, my door is always open," who insisted we tell students who asked for him, that he wasn't in. Our secret nickname for him was, "the Lounge Lizard."
If you guessed that a business owner who bases his business on hardcore sales tactics and deceptive paperwork is going to be repugnant SOB, you are exactly right. He was intimidating and unreasonable and a control freak. There was no policy for sick leave, vacation or retirement. There was some sort of health insurance that was completely worthless but he never let you forget how great he was because he didn't have to provide that. He assumed everyone was dishonest and trying to cheat him. He scared me and I did everything I could to stay below his radar.
Because most of the students were actively working, the school's main hours were in the evenings but no matter what time the last student was out the door, the staff could not leave until 9pm, closing time. The boss would phone at 8:47pm to check on the deposit or something. Then he'd call again at 8:58pm to remind someone to turn off the light in his office. He might ask to talk to a specific person, to make sure no one left early. So we'd all have to stand there in the lobby, holding our purses until exactly 9pm.
I later worked in the back office processing applications while the regular application processor took leave to have a baby. The application lady was obsessively organized and my work passed her rugged inspection and I hit the radar of scary boss man.
After less than one year at this job, he approached me and did this number on me where he said he knew I was smart and that I would leave eventually and would I be interested in this other opportunity he knew about. As I understood it, it would be administrative services for small business contractors. We would do their paperwork, billing, payroll, insurance type stuff and also referrals.
He wanted me to be vague about why I was leaving the company so I lied to all my nice co-workers (sorry!) and left the job.
Forgive me. I was only 24 years old and completely clueless how the world worked. Nothing about this scenario raised any red flags for me plus this new position would offer more responsibility and about a 20% pay increase. I bit.
My first job when I graduated from college was working as a research assistant for a license exam prep school. At that time, in California, in order to get a contractor's license, you needed four years of experience and you had to complete a lengthy application and take two exams. One was a general exam everyone had to take that covered topics like bonding and liens. The second one was for the specific trade, for example, general contracting, plumbing or swimming pools.
The school advertised on the radio and individuals, or often, their girlfriends/wives, would call in for more information. We would tell them that the program director was out and collect all their information so he could return the call as soon as he returned. This was called "a lead."
The program director was a sleezeball salesman whose only reason for living was the commission. If he thought we could massage the qualifications and get that guy an exam date, he would want that guy's money. I say guy because the entire time I worked there only one woman came through the program.
Part of the big sales pitch was that if you failed the exam, you'd get your tuition refunded. The thing is, if you looked at the sign up sheet, only about 20% of what you paid was considered tuition. Everything else was admissions fee, books and materials fee, license processing fee and so forth. They also liked to give away free courses for additional licenses, say you wanted plumbing and well drilling. Few people ever returned for the additional license.
The school would prepare the license application and the student would sit through a series of taped classes and take practice exams that were created by people like me, recent college graduates who knew squat about the contracting industry. We would extract information from books about carpentry and plumbing and put them into taped classes and tests.
I don't think one person ever asked about the source material for the classes and exams.
I actually liked the work. I liked researching new materials and working with the students and answering their questions.
The salesmen were loathsome cads. There was one guy who regularly told new students, "Stop by any time, my door is always open," who insisted we tell students who asked for him, that he wasn't in. Our secret nickname for him was, "the Lounge Lizard."
If you guessed that a business owner who bases his business on hardcore sales tactics and deceptive paperwork is going to be repugnant SOB, you are exactly right. He was intimidating and unreasonable and a control freak. There was no policy for sick leave, vacation or retirement. There was some sort of health insurance that was completely worthless but he never let you forget how great he was because he didn't have to provide that. He assumed everyone was dishonest and trying to cheat him. He scared me and I did everything I could to stay below his radar.
Because most of the students were actively working, the school's main hours were in the evenings but no matter what time the last student was out the door, the staff could not leave until 9pm, closing time. The boss would phone at 8:47pm to check on the deposit or something. Then he'd call again at 8:58pm to remind someone to turn off the light in his office. He might ask to talk to a specific person, to make sure no one left early. So we'd all have to stand there in the lobby, holding our purses until exactly 9pm.
I later worked in the back office processing applications while the regular application processor took leave to have a baby. The application lady was obsessively organized and my work passed her rugged inspection and I hit the radar of scary boss man.
After less than one year at this job, he approached me and did this number on me where he said he knew I was smart and that I would leave eventually and would I be interested in this other opportunity he knew about. As I understood it, it would be administrative services for small business contractors. We would do their paperwork, billing, payroll, insurance type stuff and also referrals.
He wanted me to be vague about why I was leaving the company so I lied to all my nice co-workers (sorry!) and left the job.
Forgive me. I was only 24 years old and completely clueless how the world worked. Nothing about this scenario raised any red flags for me plus this new position would offer more responsibility and about a 20% pay increase. I bit.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Gandalf's HatSome weird piece of wood found by the river in Orleans
I'm working on an epic post about my first job out of college. I had no idea it would take so much time to write when I started. Turns out personal ancient history is fertile writing material.
Today was back to work and the word of the day is rain. Pouring on the way to work. Pouring during lunch. Pouring all the way home. Probably pouring now but I can't hear it from where I'm sitting right now.
Some ladies on the bus were furious that it was late. They threw a giant fit as if the bus driver was personally responsible for the rain, traffic and wrecks going in both directions. Ladies: it's public transportation. Not magic.
They sat for the entire ride making catty remarks about the driver. They also said the driver was 45 minutes late and she said she was only 21 minutes late and they did exaggerated faux-relieved faces and said, "Only 21 minutes."
I wanted to tell them that if their new year's resolution was to be a catty witch they were doing a great job.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Power
View from Franklin Park toward Vancouver Lake
I'm astonished by how quickly this time off has flown by and how little I managed to get organized. There was a moment this afternoon where I said, "Fork it. I need to goof off," and I cracked open my gold box of Twin Peaks DVDs. The series holds up like nobody's business. This is my most fanatical TV experience of all time. I watched every single minute of the show in its original broadcast. I met the Log Lady.
I watched through the entire series at 2 times but it's been at least 10 years. This is going to be awesome.
Among my accomplishments this time off: I finished a draft of my story and that was priority number one. And I did have a lot of fun time with my sweetheart. We went for a walk again this morning along with half the neighborhood. It was like everyone was tired of eating cookies and watching the rain and wanted to get out in the wind and cold and stretch the legs.
My desk is still piled high with crap and I still haven't gotten the paper version of the holiday newsletter out. Who cares? Am I going to be on my deathbed thinking: "Oh, bummer. My 07 holiday letters were catastrophically late"? I doubt it.
I've had a lot of instructions lately for my death. I'm always telling my husband, "If I die tragically, here's what I want you to do." Today I told him that even if I'm young, if it's quick and painless he should tell everyone to be happy. Given the choice, I'd pick quick and painless over being eaten by a tiger, bear, alligator or shark any day. I'm disproportionally concerned about being eaten alive.
I went to yoga on New Years Eve and he asked me to be very careful driving home in case there were drunk drivers on the road. As I got in the car to come home and zoomed onto the freeway I cranked up the radio and guess what song came on?
(Don't Fear) The Reaper. You know what I was thinking?
"Dammit! If I die right now, no one will know the irony."
I live! And I predict 2008 will be a good year but, I've been enjoying sleeping in. Tomorrow that alarm is going to hurt.
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