This house is full of Easter chocolate and candy. There are chocolate rabbits, chocolate eggs with prizes in them, chocolate baskets with candy eggs and chocolate chocolate chocolate....very little of which has a quality rating better than 4/10 on the cocoa scale*. My secret stash includes chocolat from a place in the Distillery District (which is sold through a small fine food outlet in our Town) and some Italian stuff, and a few pieces from a vendor from Montreal who was at the One of a Kind show last weekend.
Candy/chocolate lasts forever here. Halloween candy lasts until Christmas, Christmas until past Valentine's, Valentine's until Easter, Easter until.....
The bulk of the stuff in this house? Full of sugar, wax, and other nasty things, not so much on the cocoa.
And no one is eating it. Sure, when they first got it, they were snarfling it down, but since the weekend, it sits. It congeals. No one pays any attention to it, and after school and after dinner and any other time when it might be appropriate to ask to eat this garbage, they're asking instead for muffins or cookies or something Mumma made, rather than this horrid excuse for confectionery.
And yet, I cannot quite bring myself to throw it out. What of the wailing, the gnashing of teeth, the rending of garments that might ensue? I could get away with tossing it out slowly, perhaps getting rid of the most offending bits first: the garbage that holds little toys and little pieces of little toys, and while at it get rid of the little toys themselves...but would someone notice? Would I be called to task on the Carpet of Doom to face my accusers? They are formidable, after all, and their ability to make me suffer is renowned (at least, renowned in this house).
So the bags sit, untouched. The baskets sit, staring. Today, perhaps, I will gather up my courage and get rid of some of it. Easter Candy should not last until the summer solstice. It shouldn't even last until the end of the month. We should be able to look forward to the herald of spring without the added sticky bulk and the wafting aroma of cheap chocolate. Of course, the herald of spring is taking his sweet time, and there's more snow expected tonight......so maybe we'll just hold onto the Easter Candy for a few more days....
(*totally invented by me.)
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Saturday, March 22, 2008
In another life......
A man is lying on a bed with his wife. He rolls over so that he is leaning over her, propped up on his arms, looking down at her face, which is placid, open.
"So. No kids eh?"
"Nope. I don't think that bringing children into the world, to replace the family you thought you should have had while growing up, is a good enough excuse to have said children, with you."
"Okay. But the second you change your mind, I'm nailin' ya."
Whereupon he rolls off the bed, digging his hands into her shoulders. She doesn't flinch.
"So. No kids eh?"
"Nope. I don't think that bringing children into the world, to replace the family you thought you should have had while growing up, is a good enough excuse to have said children, with you."
"Okay. But the second you change your mind, I'm nailin' ya."
Whereupon he rolls off the bed, digging his hands into her shoulders. She doesn't flinch.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
After all that...
Today, I bought these...although mine are slightly darker. The colour is deceptive, it's sort of a silvery-colour that takes on whatever is reflecting it. When it's my blue-white winter skin, then they're not quite silver....
to go with this dress (which, honestly, if you don't put the hands in the pockets, doesn't suck as much as Banana Republic is making it suck in this photo).
This outfit is for a wedding at the end of May.
By the way, for those getting here via Ravelry, I do knit, honestly. I just haven't finished anything lately, and my life is too full. Work gets in the way of knitting, believe it or not.
Today the shoes are brought to you by the letter W for my friend who is having difficulty at home, and for whom therapy took the form of enabling me to purchase shiny shoes.
to go with this dress (which, honestly, if you don't put the hands in the pockets, doesn't suck as much as Banana Republic is making it suck in this photo).
This outfit is for a wedding at the end of May.
By the way, for those getting here via Ravelry, I do knit, honestly. I just haven't finished anything lately, and my life is too full. Work gets in the way of knitting, believe it or not.
Today the shoes are brought to you by the letter W for my friend who is having difficulty at home, and for whom therapy took the form of enabling me to purchase shiny shoes.
Friday, March 14, 2008
On Working
I have worked with men almost exclusively for a really long time. In fact, since I left home I have lived almost exclusively with men, platonically and otherwise. I work with men, I live with men. I like it that way.
Today I had three conversations simultaneously, with three different men, due to the wonders of gmail chat and the fact that I share an office with a man. BF2, FFS and I were chatting, and D- and I share an office. I'm using parts of the conversations without permission, but since 2/3 men mentioned in this post read here, if they don't like the post they can let me know and I'll remove what they've said (they might notice that what they've said has been edited anyway) and then the post will be weird and disjointed. Not that it isn't already slightly weird and disjointed....
me and BF2:
FFS: Shoes. I love shoes
Today I had three conversations simultaneously, with three different men, due to the wonders of gmail chat and the fact that I share an office with a man. BF2, FFS and I were chatting, and D- and I share an office. I'm using parts of the conversations without permission, but since 2/3 men mentioned in this post read here, if they don't like the post they can let me know and I'll remove what they've said (they might notice that what they've said has been edited anyway) and then the post will be weird and disjointed. Not that it isn't already slightly weird and disjointed....
me and BF2:
BF2: hmm, well, i do try to pretend to understand things at times. it's more fun than completely zoning out and thinking about dinner. no wait, it's definitely not.
1:57 PM me: or shoes.
i would think about shoes.
you know, i never used to care about shoes all that much.
i'm older now.
i love them.
BF2: have you worn the new ones, or just thought about them
1:58 PM also, about shoes, can you break down the totality of the experience.
(BF2 is a cognitive scientist who hadn't eaten enough breakfast)
(me to FFS, while I'm rummaging around in my desk, looking for a tampon. Preferably one the size of a bichon frise. Sorry guys. FFS had just seen a visiting speaker, someone with whom I used to collaborate.)
FFS: I agree. I was so happy to see my work up there again!
1:53 PM Why is he moving to another university?
me: because he hates the one he's at?
and his lovely wife hates the tiny university town that they currently live in?
FFS: Oh, sweet deal
1:54 PM me: and she would rather live in
(me to my office mate, D-):
me: hey D-, did you see that note from The Boss about the audit check on the software? (I am still rummaging in my desk for the elusive massive tampon. I know it's in there.) Did you know about that?
D-: No. I thought for sure that that was a $50K add-on that we'd have to get, so I was surprised to see that note. The previous versions of the software didn't have that, right?
(me to BF2):
1:59 PM me: can i break it down? how?
like, when i see them, if my heart sings, i get them?
that kind of totality? (good god man, get some food in you and quit talking nonsense.)
BF2: how much is it the sense of the look, of how they look. of the feel of wearing them. what is it?
(the tampon has now been located.)
2:01 PM me: the sense of the look, first. often i'm grazing around fluevog's website and i see something that just strikes me. it's more difficult with the shoes in person, honestly, because you see a billion pairs in the store and nothing sings.
then if i get to put them on, they fit. and an angelic chorus descends from the heavens, and breaks into a moving rendition of "Fame".
BF2: shoes for women seem to be designed in such a way as to almost project different manifestations of personality, to promote/highlight particular aspects.
(dear god in heaven man, don't you ever laugh?)
FFS: Shoes. I love shoes
me: yes, me too.
(see? it doesn't have to be a cross-examination of the phenomenological aspects of shoe purchasing and subsequent ownership.)
(me to D-):
me: No, I don't think the previous versions did it. Now though, you can type in "audit" and you can actually look at the file in Notepad, but if you edit it at all, the file won't open again and the audit is corrupted. (I slip the tampon, which is truly the size of a baby puppy, into my pocket. D- does not notice. He has never shared an office with a woman.) If this happens, then the file won't open any more and the data will either have to be recollected or re-edited. Cool eh? The file is all encoded, playing with it will result in bad things. Isn't that what the client wants to know?
D-: well, I think they wanted a list of everything that has ever happened to that data.
(D- is one straight-arrow kind of guy with a wicked sense of dry humour. Sadly, it was not in evidence today.)
me: well, that's what I've been saying. Whether it comes through as "You just screwed with that file, and I will now blast you with my hidden Nd-YAG laser, so duck," or "Audit not verified," same thing, right? I just don't describe it the same way you understand it.
(because I never do.)
me: i love to look at them. i often don't care if i own them.
the architecture of the shoe is a lovely thing. i can't wear high heels, so many of the beautiful ones are out of reach. i still love them.
2:08 PM BF2: okay. i was just thinking about expression, and clothing is absolutely expression (even "i don't care" is expression). and like art, appreciation of that expression does not require ownership. but that they have that potential makes them even more interesting.
(I have to admit that at this point I'm trying to make this conversation interesting to me. Luckily I'm conducting two others and attempting to get something out of my desk and into my pocket without waving it around and proclaiming aha! found you! before beginning my juggling act.)
me: no way. what kind?
FFS: These sweet adidas kicks
I have nice italian dress shoes too, and the nice ukrainian ones too
stylin' and profilin'
1:58 PM me: i have to get Hub to get some good dress shoes. his nephew is getting married at the end of may and i will (of course) be looking fantastic....he has a $2K suit, he needs shoes to style it up.
1:59 PM FFS: 2 k suit? Nice shit
I thought my Chaps 600 bones suit was rad
2:00 PM me: zenga suit.
2:01 PM FFS: nice. Remember, as always, you are allowed to spend money on me
me: right.
At this point, I decide that I don't want to talk to any of them any more, and break off the conversations with excuses that I need to get down to the X-ray room to meet with a student. This is true but really? I'd had enough. I love working with men, I love my men friends. Truly. My brain was exploding at this point, however, and in order to maintain my own sanity, I left them all behind. To meet with a man-student. The parade is never-ending.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
We Only Talk about the Weather Anymore
I don’t like that title sentence, not because all we do is talk about the weather, because that’s quite true, but because of the use of “anymore” at the end of it. I have heard people speak this way, and it always annoys me and wants me to rewind the Tape of Life and get them to say the sentence correctly.
Sadly, there is no rewind button, otherwise I might have corrected a few other things.
Last weekend we got wacked by snow, and even though it’s been four days since it all fell, it wasn’t the first or the last storm of the season, and today it was supposed to snow and rain and that just makes your skin crawl, you know? There might be more snow. Or if it rains, then the eight foot (2.4384m) snowbanks at the end of the driveways might slither off down the storm drains….if the storm drains aren’t covered by eight foot snowbanks. If they are then we’ll just have a nice flood and comment that maybe we should grab the children on their way by. Good thing they’re strong swimmers.
It’s March Break and today I’m home with the Darlings. Hub has been home with them the rest of the week, but today he’s got a course in project management to take, so I’m home instead. Just as well because work is beginning to make my head explode. I realize that I said that I would do a lot of the things that people normally don’t want to do, but I couldn’t have predicted the mind-numbing boredom that awaited me. Let’s just say that by about 3:00 every afternoon I start to pray that the clocks stop their evil tricks and start to move a little more quickly, lest I end up face-planted on the keyboard, snoring. Naturally I would wake up with the alphabet in qwerty all imprinted on my pretty face and then I’d have to stop all the raging nerds I work (and live) with from plugging my head into their computers because really, wouldn’t it be so totally cool to have a human keyboard? Really? While this might make for more exciting times in my temporary job, I’d be happier with maybe getting to puzzle out some data once in a while, or hey, maybe it would be good if I just got to actually collect some data. Or maybe if I was allowed to finish a calibration, and figure out why it went the way it did without having some NMR jockster hang over me and say, “Oh, use the Magic Shim file that D- wrote, because it always works for him,” even though he knows full well it doesn’t. And if I show up in the X-ray lab one more time and get told, “The structure is finished, you just have to clean up the disorder and the solvent and the……..” in other words, the crap part. I don’t get to tell the student/prof what the structure is because they already know that. I get to make it pretty and number the atoms and deconvolute the messy bits. While this is important, it isn’t the part of the story that gets the pat on the back.
Here, look at Katie in the snow. It's a nice diversion.
On the other hand, yesterday I did have an interesting conversation about a Pd(0)-catalyzed reaction that resulted in a Zwitterionic ligand. That was cool.
Okay, you see that? That was the coolest part of the last two weeks. Now I know that Hub reads this thing and that he’s sitting there thinking of things for me to do where I don’t have to interact with/be told what to do by the other boys in the lab. I don’t mind the other boys, and they don’t mind me. We get along fine, as long as they get to do their little things, and I get to do…..well, whatever it is that girls do. Maybe instead of doing anything that has to do with spectrometers tomorrow I can write a manual instead, and hang out in the X-ray lab because that boss is off to get some synchrotron beamtime and I can pretend I run the place, which mostly means that I get to tell everyone who comes in there that no, J- isn’t here and he won’t be here.
I know that I’m blaming work for the ennui. If I figure out the real problem I’ll let you know. Or maybe these guys know what's bugging me:
In an interesting twist of fate, the following is the Dictionary.com word of the day:
rodomontade \rod-uh-muhn-TADE; roh-duh-; -TAHD\, noun: Vain boasting; empty bluster; pretentious, bragging speech; rant.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
The Wild Wild West
Back from the West, where Dad is not doing so well but "not dead yet" in the most Monty Pythonic sense of the word. Not that we were tossing him onto the wheelbarrow or anything like that, far from it actually. Every morning I got up and did a little happy dance because he made it through another night. Woot! Props for Dad!
They remodelled the kitchen and main floor, took out the carpets and put down laminate and porcelain tile. Painted. Had that all finished at Christmas so that when everyone showed up they were all surprised. The really massive fumehood over the stove is also an excellent feature if you're an invalid and you can wheel your walker up to the stove, have a seat on the walker, get your coffee, turn on the hood and have your smoke. You don't even have to go outside any more...not that you could anyway, because you don't really have the strength to get the walker over the door frame. That is what a kitchen reno is for, you see: to facilitate your bad habits right up until the very end. All the disapproving looks in the world aren't going to prevent you from fulfilling your vices, and by the way would you like a scotch and soda with that?
We did laugh a lot, because if you don't laugh you'll just break down, and there was none of that. One or two quick tears but really, there's no point in being maudlin and that didn't happen. What? Cold-hearted? not at all. Just realistic. Besides, crying about what is going to happen is ridiculous; better to live for the few moments we have than to mourn the future.
Okay, that doesn't hold for environmental causes and it doesn't mean one should run out and make many stupid decisions, but that when someone is dying just take one moment at a time and enjoy them.
To distract myself, I started knitting the second sock from the pair that I started three years ago. I got one sock made but couldn't face starting another thing that was exactly the same as the first, but now I'm sort of over that and I feel that knitting socks could suddenly be very very productive. The current pair is being made from some really old Regia sock yarn (maybe 10 years old? probably more) and it's sort of an ugly green camo colour and since these are my first socks and a toe-up pattern, they aren't beautiful but they do fit me and the one that I have finished is really amazingly comfortable. Ugly though. "Knit on, through all tragedy..." or somesuch, from Elizabeth Zimmerman.
Woke up at 03h30 this morning when the Big One stomped in an proclaimed that she couldn't sleep. Got her back into her room, handed her a couple of books and recommended that she stay put until 06h00 or so. Unfortunately my brain did not take the same advice so I gave up at 04h15 and I'm still here parked at Laptop. Sent some important emails and now I'm getting hungry, and since it's after 05h00 Hub should be getting up soon to gaze out the window or at least consider shovelling the snow and ice that's outside .... but personally I'd recommend that he go back to bed because the snow isn't going anywhere and I suspect neither are we today. Snow day. Sock day. Snowshoe day.
They remodelled the kitchen and main floor, took out the carpets and put down laminate and porcelain tile. Painted. Had that all finished at Christmas so that when everyone showed up they were all surprised. The really massive fumehood over the stove is also an excellent feature if you're an invalid and you can wheel your walker up to the stove, have a seat on the walker, get your coffee, turn on the hood and have your smoke. You don't even have to go outside any more...not that you could anyway, because you don't really have the strength to get the walker over the door frame. That is what a kitchen reno is for, you see: to facilitate your bad habits right up until the very end. All the disapproving looks in the world aren't going to prevent you from fulfilling your vices, and by the way would you like a scotch and soda with that?
We did laugh a lot, because if you don't laugh you'll just break down, and there was none of that. One or two quick tears but really, there's no point in being maudlin and that didn't happen. What? Cold-hearted? not at all. Just realistic. Besides, crying about what is going to happen is ridiculous; better to live for the few moments we have than to mourn the future.
Okay, that doesn't hold for environmental causes and it doesn't mean one should run out and make many stupid decisions, but that when someone is dying just take one moment at a time and enjoy them.
To distract myself, I started knitting the second sock from the pair that I started three years ago. I got one sock made but couldn't face starting another thing that was exactly the same as the first, but now I'm sort of over that and I feel that knitting socks could suddenly be very very productive. The current pair is being made from some really old Regia sock yarn (maybe 10 years old? probably more) and it's sort of an ugly green camo colour and since these are my first socks and a toe-up pattern, they aren't beautiful but they do fit me and the one that I have finished is really amazingly comfortable. Ugly though. "Knit on, through all tragedy..." or somesuch, from Elizabeth Zimmerman.
Woke up at 03h30 this morning when the Big One stomped in an proclaimed that she couldn't sleep. Got her back into her room, handed her a couple of books and recommended that she stay put until 06h00 or so. Unfortunately my brain did not take the same advice so I gave up at 04h15 and I'm still here parked at Laptop. Sent some important emails and now I'm getting hungry, and since it's after 05h00 Hub should be getting up soon to gaze out the window or at least consider shovelling the snow and ice that's outside .... but personally I'd recommend that he go back to bed because the snow isn't going anywhere and I suspect neither are we today. Snow day. Sock day. Snowshoe day.
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