Today, I'd like to welcome the arrival of November. I'm sure it's arrival will thrill those of you that suffered during August a couple of weeks ago. I, personally, am glad that November is here (despite the miserable wait for the bus and the pathetically drooping leaves and flower buds on the trees this morning) because it means that we're bound to eventually experience June, even if it must immediately follow January, which has been absent since the beginning of 2011.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Sunday, April 8, 2012
An...Apple Cozy?
Why yes, it is! A NINJA Apple Cozy, in fact.
http://www.etsy.com/listing/62038202/brown-apple-cozy-cinnamon-fruit-cozy?ref=fp_treasury_1
http://www.etsy.com/listing/62038202/brown-apple-cozy-cinnamon-fruit-cozy?ref=fp_treasury_1
Friday, April 6, 2012
Awful song
Yesterday, I decided to stop in Banana Republic (yes, I shop there; I can sometimes find worthwhile work clothing there on the sale rack...and I admit, sometimes full price) over lunch. I was just going to check out a sale on dresses they had going. When I stepped in, I noticed the music--a song I've heard a few times and really like. Stereotypical music for the store, but it's cool I like this one. I make a beeline for the dresses. They're ho-hum, but there were some full-priced ones near the entrance that I like, so I head in that direction. Then...a new song. I have never heard it before and I hope to never hear it again. It sounded like a duet between a college-age Thurston Howell III and a cheerleader about to faint over a somewhat disco-y beat. I hustle out of there, not stopping to look at a damned thing.
Later, I've missed my bus and have to wait for the next one, so I kill some time and stop in Ann Taylor. I mention that I'm glad the music is decent in the store. I explain my earlier experience at BR, describing the song exactly as above, and the girl selling me the belt I've been coveting for a while (at 30% off!), grimaces. "Yeah, I know exactly what you're talking about! We've played it in here before. It's awful, but there's nothing we can do about it--corporate stream."
Crap.
Later, I've missed my bus and have to wait for the next one, so I kill some time and stop in Ann Taylor. I mention that I'm glad the music is decent in the store. I explain my earlier experience at BR, describing the song exactly as above, and the girl selling me the belt I've been coveting for a while (at 30% off!), grimaces. "Yeah, I know exactly what you're talking about! We've played it in here before. It's awful, but there's nothing we can do about it--corporate stream."
Crap.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Cat-induced paranoia
I swear, the cats have intentionally made me paranoid.
Lately, they've been unusually good. Still, every time I even imagine I hear them in the sink, I get up to check on them. So, when I'm hanging out reading, they go in the kitchen to play just to make me get up and find them being all "innocent."
.jpg) |
| Don't let their innocent appearance fool you. They're evil. Evil, I tell you. |
I think they're laughing at me.
Today is only Tuesday
How is it that some weeks can seem to be packed all in one day. Yes, I remember asking yesterday "Why does it have to be Monday." But how is it only Tuesday, today?
Maybe it's the weather. It is unseasonably--REALLY unseasonably--warm. I was tempted to turn on the air conditioner yesterday. Me. Turning on the air conditioner. In March. So wrong.
I held out, though. I waited for the summer storm to pass, then opened the windows to get the after-the-storm air into the house. I love that kind of weather.
The problem is, it's March. As much as I love hot, humid weather, if the temperature trend keeps up, it will be a very miserable summer. Even for me.
Maybe it's the weather. It is unseasonably--REALLY unseasonably--warm. I was tempted to turn on the air conditioner yesterday. Me. Turning on the air conditioner. In March. So wrong.
I held out, though. I waited for the summer storm to pass, then opened the windows to get the after-the-storm air into the house. I love that kind of weather.
The problem is, it's March. As much as I love hot, humid weather, if the temperature trend keeps up, it will be a very miserable summer. Even for me.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Odd combinations
Some things that shouldn't go together, just do. Like peanut butter and mayonnaise (hey, don't diss it till you try it--make sure it's Miracle Whip), peanut butter and apples, and Guns and Roses.
Yesterday, I got the opportunity to volunteer at the Food and Wine Experience Expo. In return, I got free admission to the show. Boy, was it crowded. But it's fun to try different wine, tastes from various local restaurants (I had a steamed dumpling sandwich that was to die for), and interesting new gourmet items available locally and online. Two of the gourmet shops sold things that I would never have thought of, but I highly recommend trying:
Cayenne shortbread by A Gourmet Thyme. http://www.agourmetthymetoo.com/
They say "savory, not sweet." I'd actually say "sweet with a bit of heat." I had to buy some of these to share with my wonderful guy. I gave him without warning him that they have a bit of bite. The response was something like, "Mmm. Mmm. Whoah! Hey, these are spicy. Cool!"
Beer and pretzel caramels by Sweet Jules Gifts. http://www.sweetjulesgifts.com/
How can anyone not like home made caramels? Well, these aren't technically home made, but they taste like it. I might have considered putting pretzels into caramels, but beer? It's good, though.
Yesterday, I got the opportunity to volunteer at the Food and Wine Experience Expo. In return, I got free admission to the show. Boy, was it crowded. But it's fun to try different wine, tastes from various local restaurants (I had a steamed dumpling sandwich that was to die for), and interesting new gourmet items available locally and online. Two of the gourmet shops sold things that I would never have thought of, but I highly recommend trying:
Cayenne shortbread by A Gourmet Thyme. http://www.agourmetthymetoo.com/
They say "savory, not sweet." I'd actually say "sweet with a bit of heat." I had to buy some of these to share with my wonderful guy. I gave him without warning him that they have a bit of bite. The response was something like, "Mmm. Mmm. Whoah! Hey, these are spicy. Cool!"
Beer and pretzel caramels by Sweet Jules Gifts. http://www.sweetjulesgifts.com/
How can anyone not like home made caramels? Well, these aren't technically home made, but they taste like it. I might have considered putting pretzels into caramels, but beer? It's good, though.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Center of Attention
When I was going to grad school, there was sort of a quiet understanding that when you got your Ph.D., you would do some post-doctoral research, then you would take a sliver of what you learned from your post-doc research and use it to morph into a brand new academic researcher. Although no one of any authority actually said so, you just knew that if you did something else, you would disappoint your graduate adviser.
No matter how you felt about your graduate adviser, no one wanted to disappoint them.
Now that I'm doing something else (and probably disappointing my graduate adviser--*I'm sorry. Doctah Doctah! I'm sorry*), the graduate school program from which I got my doctoral degree is at least exposing the current crop of PeeAychDee'ers-to-be to "alternative careers." So, a handful of times in the last year I've been requested to brag...er...talk about my job to fresh young minds.
This also, of course, means that I get to feed my ego. I admit it; I'm vain and I like to impress smart people.
It's more than just preening, though. I have a cool job. I have a cool job that I can't even say I knew existed in any real sense before I started doing it.
It's truly a shame that I didn't know about it before I fell into it, really. Not that I think it would have necessarily changed the course of my career or where I am, now. But I wasn't the only one who felt a sense of almost-shame for wanting to do something other than the expected academic route. The fact is, I'm not the only one that knew I was going to be bored to tears with a single research path, but I suspect that many of my classmates are still struggling with their career goals simply because they didn't realize that they could do something else.
Fortunately, I wasn't the only one that snuck out. There were three others at the career panel I participated in today that had cool (and I mean cool) "non-traditional" careers.
When the panel host asked how we got into our careers, I was pleasantly surprised to hear that they'd also fallen into their careers by simply knowing what they didn't want to do. (There was a lot of nodding happening as we briefly explained how we ended up where we ended up.) And I was glad that at least a good number of young adults soon to enter the scary "real" world with their graduate degrees would be aware that they, too, could do something unexpected and without shame.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
Domestic Goddess
Kind of. Not really. But sometimes...
Once in a while, I get the notion that I want to do something homey. Like cook. Or iron. Actually, forget the ironing. I can't do that without making things worse. I am a good cook, though, if I must say so, myself. (My lovely boyfriend agrees, at least to my face.)
A few weeks ago, we were visiting my boyfriend's mom, who has grapevines trellised over her backyard fence. She's been talking about getting the fence fixed, which means that the grapes must go. I think it's tragic.
So, to console myself, I offered to harvest the abundance of concord grapes before *sigh* they are no more.
Approximately 10 pounds later, I have no idea what, exactly, I'm going to do with all of these grapes, which are characterized by an amazing flavor and an equally large seed in each one. I froze some of them last year, but never got around to actually eating them. This year, they sat in my fridge for a week and a half, threatening to shrivel up before I got to them.
I figured that the most practical thing would be to make jelly.
So, I presumed that I should cook them down.
But first...
Pick each. And every. One. From their bunches.
Hours later (not too much of an exaggeration), I've got the grapes in a stock pot on low heat. I allow them to cook, assuming that, like tomatoes, the skins will eventually fall off and you can either strain them out or they will disintegrate. They don't disintegrate. Or fall off. Nor do the seeds go willingly from the flesh. And when they've finished cooking down, you've got a mush of hotter-than-hell grape juice that smells delicious, but threatens to both scald and stain you (and every fiber of clothing you are wearing).
By the time this mash has cooled enough to maybe handle, it's really stinking late. So, the grape mash goes into the fridge in the stock pot.
Step 2, the following day. No time.
The day after that. No time.
The day after that. Ah, some time. Run the grape mash through a strainer. Which turns out to be very ineffective. It actually requires pressing the grape mash against the strainer many, many, many times, only to be left with something that's still half grape juice, but refuses to be strained any further. I find that squeezing the shit out of it by hand works, though. And I even have enough foresight to wear some disposable gloves so as not to end up with purple hands.
The result...grape juice and what looks like bat guano, complete with seeds. It's disappointingly little grape juice, too.
Or, so I thought.
I find a recipe for easy jelly online (no, I didn't do that BEFORE I decided to do this), which calls for 3 cups of juice. Check. 5 1/4 cups sugar (!). Check. And pectin. Easy enough to get. Cool! I can do this!
I go to the store and purchase a dozen half pint jelly jars, some pectin, and canning equipment (a canning pot, tongs, jar grasper, jar opener, funnel, magnet...actually a pretty good setup, it turns out). I come home and measure out my grape juice. I have...12 cups of grape juice. Shit. I need more of...everything.
I go to the store and get more jars and pectin (regular instead of instant this time) and sugar. Did you know that one 4-pound bag of sugar is actually about 9 cups? ONLY 9 cups. Then, I set to work.
Add pectin to grape juice, bring to boil, stir in sugar. Whoah... That's a lot of sugar. This is going to require more jars.
I go to the store. Get more jars. And finishing jarring my grape jelly (after washing each jar by hand, then running through the dishwasher). I even processed the jars. Because there is no damned way we're eating 30 and 1/3 jars of jelly within 3 weeks. And each and every one of those jars sealed! (Hooray! I wasn't entirely confident about this.)
It actually turned out quite good. I just hope we don't get botulism. Do you suppose I should hold off on giving any of it away?
Once in a while, I get the notion that I want to do something homey. Like cook. Or iron. Actually, forget the ironing. I can't do that without making things worse. I am a good cook, though, if I must say so, myself. (My lovely boyfriend agrees, at least to my face.)
A few weeks ago, we were visiting my boyfriend's mom, who has grapevines trellised over her backyard fence. She's been talking about getting the fence fixed, which means that the grapes must go. I think it's tragic.
So, to console myself, I offered to harvest the abundance of concord grapes before *sigh* they are no more.
Approximately 10 pounds later, I have no idea what, exactly, I'm going to do with all of these grapes, which are characterized by an amazing flavor and an equally large seed in each one. I froze some of them last year, but never got around to actually eating them. This year, they sat in my fridge for a week and a half, threatening to shrivel up before I got to them.
I figured that the most practical thing would be to make jelly.
So, I presumed that I should cook them down.
But first...
Pick each. And every. One. From their bunches.
Hours later (not too much of an exaggeration), I've got the grapes in a stock pot on low heat. I allow them to cook, assuming that, like tomatoes, the skins will eventually fall off and you can either strain them out or they will disintegrate. They don't disintegrate. Or fall off. Nor do the seeds go willingly from the flesh. And when they've finished cooking down, you've got a mush of hotter-than-hell grape juice that smells delicious, but threatens to both scald and stain you (and every fiber of clothing you are wearing).
By the time this mash has cooled enough to maybe handle, it's really stinking late. So, the grape mash goes into the fridge in the stock pot.
Step 2, the following day. No time.
The day after that. No time.
The day after that. Ah, some time. Run the grape mash through a strainer. Which turns out to be very ineffective. It actually requires pressing the grape mash against the strainer many, many, many times, only to be left with something that's still half grape juice, but refuses to be strained any further. I find that squeezing the shit out of it by hand works, though. And I even have enough foresight to wear some disposable gloves so as not to end up with purple hands.
The result...grape juice and what looks like bat guano, complete with seeds. It's disappointingly little grape juice, too.
 |
| Grape guano. |
I find a recipe for easy jelly online (no, I didn't do that BEFORE I decided to do this), which calls for 3 cups of juice. Check. 5 1/4 cups sugar (!). Check. And pectin. Easy enough to get. Cool! I can do this!
I go to the store and purchase a dozen half pint jelly jars, some pectin, and canning equipment (a canning pot, tongs, jar grasper, jar opener, funnel, magnet...actually a pretty good setup, it turns out). I come home and measure out my grape juice. I have...12 cups of grape juice. Shit. I need more of...everything.
I go to the store and get more jars and pectin (regular instead of instant this time) and sugar. Did you know that one 4-pound bag of sugar is actually about 9 cups? ONLY 9 cups. Then, I set to work.
Add pectin to grape juice, bring to boil, stir in sugar. Whoah... That's a lot of sugar. This is going to require more jars.
I go to the store. Get more jars. And finishing jarring my grape jelly (after washing each jar by hand, then running through the dishwasher). I even processed the jars. Because there is no damned way we're eating 30 and 1/3 jars of jelly within 3 weeks. And each and every one of those jars sealed! (Hooray! I wasn't entirely confident about this.)
It actually turned out quite good. I just hope we don't get botulism. Do you suppose I should hold off on giving any of it away?
Monday, October 3, 2011
I know interesting people
 |
| Beautiful quilt stolen from Quilts By Jess' Etsy page. |
I've noticed amongst my friends some amazing talent flourishing. Or, maybe, I'm just noticing it.
Actually, I've known I have some pretty cool friends for a while. I thought I'd just take the time to brag.
One of my friends has been making quilts. Making them like a madwoman. Well, madwoman as in doing a lot of them, not that they look like Picasso's or anything. She makes bright and beautiful baby blankets and larger bedding (http://www.etsy.com/shop/QuiltsByJess), and then blogs about it (http://quiltsbyjess.typepad.com/blog/). What's even more cool is that she's a lawyer and a geek!
Another of my friends is another cool geek. By day he does computery stuff (don't ask me what he does, he's a different kind of geek than I am, so I only really understand that he does computery stuff) at a large financial services company. By night, he and some friends do a podcast on the latest technology, movies, games, etc. (http://thegeeklife.tv/). He also brews beer and mead (mmmm....mead....)
Then, there's my friend with an aquatic thumb--that's like a green thumb, but with fish, not plants. But, that's not her only hobby. She also raises and shows dalmatians (http://paisleydals.blogspot.com/), and has probably the most well-behaved dogs I have ever met. Most of her dals are liver spotted, which I had never seen before I met her. Her dog, Argus, is even a national champion! He qualified for and competed at Westminster this year. How cool is that?
 |
| Check it out! |
I have other cool friends, but I should probably leave some bragging for later.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Some people should be beaten
I don't drive very often. I'm quite proud of that fact. Mostly, because I don't really enjoy driving all that much. Plus, it saves me money. And I can read on the bus. The police (and pretty much everyone else) kind of frown on doing that while driving. (You hear that, Mr. Businessmanwhossoimportantthatthenewspapercantwait?)
I typically drive about once a week. Lately, that once a week has been on Sundays, driving to work because I've been incredibly busy. This doesn't generally make me happy, really.
Well, today I need to drive to work again. I go down to the underground parking garage--the underground parking garage that I pay extra for the convenience and safety of it in my "luxury apartment complex"--and about 2 parking spots away, I press the button on my keyfob to unlock it. It does. I hop in and stick my key in the ignition.
Then, I discover that there are things where they shouldn't be. There are some stamps on the console just in front of my shifter. There's a broken air freshener on the passenger side floor. My phone charger is not in the center console but on the floor.
WTF.
I remember that our apartment complex sent out an email a couple of days earlier saying that some people had their cars broken into and some stuff stolen. Well, Saturday on the way out, my boyfriend and I drove by slowly to take a close gander at my car. No broken windows, and I always lock my car. I also never leave anything of value in it.
This morning, though, I'm suddenly not certain that I'd locked my car. I had stopped by Wednesday morning to pull some marketing materials out of it from my trip to SD in order to bring them back to my office. Everything was fine, then.
I hop out of my car and open my trunk. Stuff that was normally at the very front of the trunk, nearest the back seat was pulled to the back of the trunk and rifled around. OH, I was pissed.
I pull my car out and drive to the front of the building to give the office staff some whatfor. Except they don't get there till noon on Sundays. I. Have. To. Get. To. Work.
So, I take a quick trot back up to my apartment (after locking the car, of course), and ask my boyfriend when the last time he drove his "good" car. About a week. Did you check to make sure it hasn't been broken into? Why....? Mine was.
He comes out to check my car out and notices something that I hadn't...they'd punched my lock in and pulled my door handle partially out.
Now, I'm furious.
They had wrecked my barely valuable car even more, and they hadn't even taken anything. Not the dollar I always keep in my center console for emergencies or the $3 worth of change there. There was nothing other than maybe 15 or 20 cents missing from the ashtray. Yet, I will have to repair my car or face the fact that it will be almost worthless for a trade and probably less secure because the handle is popped.
So, I get off to work almost an hour after I intended to, and I'm grumpy. Really grumpy. And I worked for 10 straight hours. I could have come home an hour earlier. But no.
Some people definitely need to be beaten.
I typically drive about once a week. Lately, that once a week has been on Sundays, driving to work because I've been incredibly busy. This doesn't generally make me happy, really.
Well, today I need to drive to work again. I go down to the underground parking garage--the underground parking garage that I pay extra for the convenience and safety of it in my "luxury apartment complex"--and about 2 parking spots away, I press the button on my keyfob to unlock it. It does. I hop in and stick my key in the ignition.
Then, I discover that there are things where they shouldn't be. There are some stamps on the console just in front of my shifter. There's a broken air freshener on the passenger side floor. My phone charger is not in the center console but on the floor.
WTF.
I remember that our apartment complex sent out an email a couple of days earlier saying that some people had their cars broken into and some stuff stolen. Well, Saturday on the way out, my boyfriend and I drove by slowly to take a close gander at my car. No broken windows, and I always lock my car. I also never leave anything of value in it.
This morning, though, I'm suddenly not certain that I'd locked my car. I had stopped by Wednesday morning to pull some marketing materials out of it from my trip to SD in order to bring them back to my office. Everything was fine, then.
I hop out of my car and open my trunk. Stuff that was normally at the very front of the trunk, nearest the back seat was pulled to the back of the trunk and rifled around. OH, I was pissed.
I pull my car out and drive to the front of the building to give the office staff some whatfor. Except they don't get there till noon on Sundays. I. Have. To. Get. To. Work.
So, I take a quick trot back up to my apartment (after locking the car, of course), and ask my boyfriend when the last time he drove his "good" car. About a week. Did you check to make sure it hasn't been broken into? Why....? Mine was.
He comes out to check my car out and notices something that I hadn't...they'd punched my lock in and pulled my door handle partially out.
Now, I'm furious.
 |
| Yes, it's that dirty. It gets driven maybe 1 time a week. |
So, I get off to work almost an hour after I intended to, and I'm grumpy. Really grumpy. And I worked for 10 straight hours. I could have come home an hour earlier. But no.
Some people definitely need to be beaten.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Lost touch
It's hard to keep track of people. There are only so many meaningful relationships that anyone can keep track of, let alone nurture, and inevitably, you lose touch with one another. It gets even harder when you move away or get a new job or start a relationship or a new family.
There are lots of people that I have lost touch with. Classmates, distant relatives, friends. It's almost always nice to bump into them and catch up. (Let's face it, sometimes it's not so nice to see how they've changed...or you have.) There are people that you sometimes expect to run into when you go certain places. There are people that you find in the most unexpected places or unexpected times.
Sometimes, there are times when you think of someone and you wonder where they are, and they somehow reappear, as if just thinking about them brought them back into existence.
Sometimes you think of them, then find they are gone, and it's too late to think of them earlier.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Trend Micro Titanium Follow Up
They say you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Can you check out the other end?
I said I'd follow up in a couple of months following my less-than-stellar experience with the installation of Trend Micro Titanium. Well, this is sooner than a couple of months. Alas, it is to report that I have uninstalled it and its little dog Safe Sync, too.
As I reported before, I had gotten a year subscription to try from BzzAgent. I had some reservations about removing a perfectly good computer security system, Microsoft Security Essentials, in order to simply install Trend Micro Titanium. Then, the Safe Sync irritated me by overfilling my allotted sync space and popping up every few seconds until I forced Safe Sync to close. Not good.
I figured I would ignore it, though, as long as it did its job. Ok, so every time I restart my computer, Safe Sync would restart and tell me that I should buy more space. Erk. Ah well, I can turn that off. So I did.
As long as I kept Safe Sync off, I was ok, right? Wrong. I came home the other day after a long drive from an out of town business trip. I shuffle into my office to do some gaming before unpacking and going to bed. At least I thought that's what I was going to do.
My computer is in stasis, having tried to restart for some unknown reason. Grr. Reboot. Check issues. "Your computer has recovered from an unexpected crash." Yeah, duh. Why? "Coreframeworkhost.exe crash dump." What's that? Google. It's a Trend Micro program that makes Trend Micro programs work together. Not cool. Still, programs sometimes crash, right? And it seems to be stable now that I've rebooted.
*grumble* No relaxing gaming before bed, though.
Tonight, my lovely boyfriend tries to download the latest update on our favorite online game, since I worked late and I might want to play the new expansion when I get home. Aww. Except that it won't update. He suspects Trend Micro. In the back of my mind, I do, too.
Still, I restart my computer. Things seem to be working ok... My taskbar's loading funky. Grr. Fine, I'll check Titanium. Sure enough, it's dead. It claims to have "caught 1 threat in the last month," but I can't expand it to find out what it is. It's grey and dead, claiming that I need to restart my computer. Uh. I just did that. Ok, fine. I'll do it again, since I need to see if my taskbar can be fixed.
Nope. Still weird. And Trend Micro Titanium is still dead.
That's it. Uninstall!
I uninstalled both the antivirus software and the Safe Sync. I reinstalled Microsoft Security Essentials. Viola! All is right in the world.
Except that I have to re-download the game update that got interrupted by this whole mess. I guess I get to go to bed sans relaxing gaming. Computer security FAIL.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
I'm famous
Yes, I'm famous. Only nobody knows it.
The university where I got my undergraduate degree is a land grant university, which means that it was established to teach practical agriculture, science, and engineering. To this day, it excels in each of those areas.
One of the best things, from the perspective of a student looking for that freshman 15, was that, as part of its agricultural teaching, it took dairy science very seriously. That means, fresh cheese and ice cream. I'm pretty sure that it makes some of the best ice cream ever created. As you wandered through campus, you could (and still can) get a heaping bowl of ice cream made by students at the Dairy Bar for $1. For that price, there was no such thing as a starving student.
Most of the ice cream flavors were pretty standard stuff--vanilla, cookies and cream, chocolate. More exotic flavors, such as butter brickle, butter pecan, and strawberry cheesecake rotated on and off the menu.
Sometime during my senior year there, I stopped by for a bowl of ice cream and saw that they had a contest for a new flavor. Being an avid Dairy Bar fan, I figured I could make a flavor that they couldn't refuse. Even if it was only destined for a rotation or two on the menu.
I grabbed a contest form and my bowl of ice cream and meditated on one of those uncomfortable outdoor patio furniture chairs that leave diamond-shaped indentations on the back of your legs.
What would be a guaranteed winner?
Thinking outside the box was something that I could occasionally do, and it seemed to me that the flavor didn't matter. It was the presentation that mattered. And if I presented the flavor in a way no one could turn down without seeming almost unpatriotic... Well, our mascot was plastered everywhere anyone might see should they momentarily be lacking school spirit. A blue and yellow jackrabbit.
Have you ever had Jackrabbit ice cream? It's lemon custard with blueberry swirls. It's available year-round at the Dairy Bar. And has been for the last 12 years.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Cornadoes
It seems like every time I turn my steering wheel to the west, the universe seems to know it. Or at least Mother Nature does.
Occasionally, I get the opportunity to travel to South Dakota for a meeting. Since someone needs to bring the marketing materials, and I'm not high falutin' enough to fly a measly 250 miles, I get to toss a box of highlighters bearing the firm name into my trunk and drive.
I'm not the kind of person who loves a good road trip. Especially if I have to drive. Alone. For 4.5 hours. Through an area in which one of the most interesting features is the endless occurrence if corn fields. And the wind is at a minimum speed of about mach 10.
Yes, almost every time I have to get behind the steering wheel to get to SoDak, it seems to be even windier than usual. And that's saying something in a state with nothing to stop the wind for about 500 miles except a bit of grass and about 3 trees.
This time, with the last several weeks being pretty dry, the corn (and everything else) was pretty dessicated. As a result, the leaves were being stripped from the stalks and were drawn up into swirling columns every so often.
The grass seeds, too, were being ripped away by the wind, producing an effect that sounded like rain and looked like warp speed.
Overall, it was oddly entertaining to watch.
I might have gawked more if it wasn't so hard to drive 65+ miles per hour with your steering wheel cocked 20 degrees to the left.
Monday, September 19, 2011
I'm going to miss the cicadas
I've actually been missing them for a little while, already.
The thing about cicadas is that I associate them with the peak of summer, often when the oppressive heat and humidity presses down from every angle and you can't escape except into the air conditioning. Well, some people think it's oppressive.
I don't. I bask in high dew points and blazing sun. I can't stand overly cooled grocery stores and restaurants.
I think I appreciate it so much more because I know that within 6 months, everything will be different. Instead of inhaling the moisture and letting it circulate in eddies in your lungs, you inhale and ice crystals aggregate on the little hairs in your nose, causing you to cough and sputter if you should try to breathe so deeply.
I really hate being cold, and I know that when I hear the cicadas, I will be warm. So, I will miss them.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Confession
I...
Am a geek. Ask any of my friends. They'll tell you.
I drool over fun, geeky things, like the stuff on ThinkGeek (http://www.thinkgeek.com/). One thing that's been on my wishlist for a while is Bucky Balls Magnetic Building Spheres (http://www.thinkgeek.com/geektoys/science/bbe8/). I see myself building models of DNA and zinc-fingers, recreating the structures of amino acids, and maybe predicting the chemical structure of the next great antibiotic that will beat antibiotic-resistant bacteria.
Coincidentally, BzzAgent (I've written about BzzAgent before, here; http://www.bzzagent.com/) will soon be kicking off a BzzCampaign with Bucky Balls Magnetic Building Spheres. I so want to be included. I would show off to my geeky friends, one of which even has his own podcast called The Geek Life (http://thegeeklife.tv/). I might even let them use my Bucky Balls.
Better yet! I am a geek at work, too. It's encouraged. As a patent agent, I get to see all kinds of biotechy/chemically inventions all the time. I could keep my Bucky Balls on my desk and use them to build models of my clients' inventions. Ohh. That would make the patent attorneys jealous.
BzzAgent, please include me in this campaign. How many people can honestly say that they can use a geeky toy like Bucky Balls professionally?
Am a geek. Ask any of my friends. They'll tell you.
I drool over fun, geeky things, like the stuff on ThinkGeek (http://www.thinkgeek.com/). One thing that's been on my wishlist for a while is Bucky Balls Magnetic Building Spheres (http://www.thinkgeek.com/geektoys/science/bbe8/). I see myself building models of DNA and zinc-fingers, recreating the structures of amino acids, and maybe predicting the chemical structure of the next great antibiotic that will beat antibiotic-resistant bacteria.
Coincidentally, BzzAgent (I've written about BzzAgent before, here; http://www.bzzagent.com/) will soon be kicking off a BzzCampaign with Bucky Balls Magnetic Building Spheres. I so want to be included. I would show off to my geeky friends, one of which even has his own podcast called The Geek Life (http://thegeeklife.tv/). I might even let them use my Bucky Balls.
Better yet! I am a geek at work, too. It's encouraged. As a patent agent, I get to see all kinds of biotechy/chemically inventions all the time. I could keep my Bucky Balls on my desk and use them to build models of my clients' inventions. Ohh. That would make the patent attorneys jealous.
BzzAgent, please include me in this campaign. How many people can honestly say that they can use a geeky toy like Bucky Balls professionally?
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Frosty
While it's a bit invigorating to have that snap in the air, it's too early for the weather we've had the past few days. I can smell the fall in the air, and I can almost taste the way the air is dehumidified by the frost. I'm not ready for the winter, and the fall always precedes the winter.
Even though it was a roller coaster of a summer, weather-wise, there were certainly some glorious days and I will miss them. I know that some people absolutely despised the hot humid weather that never seemed to let up in July, but I was in my element. I managed to get a little bit of a tan and even spent some time in the pool.
Besides being a harbinger of Fall, the bringer of Winter, this early cold snap has put the kabosh on my hopes for a marvelous tomato season.
 |
| All these veggies came this week from my CSA, Nitty Gritty Dirt Farm (http://nittygrittydirtfarm.blogspot.com/). |
I have subscribed to a local CSA (community supported agriculture farm) for the last three years in order to get a fresh supply of organically grown veggies throughout the summer and into fall. I get all kinds of beautiful veggies, but my greatest excitement is the heirloom tomatoes. *drool* Two years ago, I could hardly carry my box of veggies home each week for several weeks because of the tomatoes alone. Red ones, pink ones, yellow ones, and even green ones. So sweet and tomato-y. I finally had to break down and get them all out of the fridge because I couldn't keep up. I made a tomato sauce with them. Oh boy was that nice as the snow began to fall and I could put home made tomato sauce into chili and spaghetti.
The last two years have been almost a bust. The tomatoes have been fantastic, but the pickings slim.
Still, you have to rejoice in a beautiful tomato, no matter how scarce.
 |
| Yes. It's yellow. |
And watermelon.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Steam is King!
When I was a kid, I lived in a small town. A very small town. Population-not-exceeding-120 small town.
When I grew up, I escaped that small town to move to a big city with lots of career opportunities and entertainment and culture.
Well, kind of.
The only thing that ever happened in my small town was a Threshing Bee. Sounds pretty small town, doesn't it? It is. But, honestly, it's one of the things I really love about that small town, still.
In this small town, during the Threshing Bee (pronounced "Thrashing Bee" in this small town), people sit patiently to watch a two hour parade of tractors and old cars.
In this small town, during the Threshing Bee, the local 4H chapter raises money by selling lunch to dusty folks who've spent the morning talking about the weather, the beautiful John Deere, and the upcoming harvest. The lunch consists of ham, canned corn, wet potatoes au gratin, a white dinner roll, all you can drink lemonade, and slices of fresh tomato and cucumber.
Oh, and home made pie. Real home made pie. Even rhubarb pie, which makes no excuse for its tartness with the addition of apologetic strawberries.
In this small town, people pile on wooden bleachers to watch people compete to see whose tractor can pull the most.
There is a craft building full of handmade quilts on one side, and various antique household items on the other. There is a toy building with toys you might find some version of 50 years ago or today. There is an old one-room school house, complete with desks, books, and a school marm.
Here and there you can find pictures of this small town when it wasn't so small. When it had a Main Street full of store fronts, an opera house, and a Waldorf.
I try, once a year, to escape being grown up in the city to the small town during the Threshing Bee. To see the town, to see the people, and to see the spectacle that is the Threshing Bee.
Especially the steam engines.
When I grew up, I escaped that small town to move to a big city with lots of career opportunities and entertainment and culture.
Well, kind of.
In this small town, during the Threshing Bee (pronounced "Thrashing Bee" in this small town), people sit patiently to watch a two hour parade of tractors and old cars.
 |
| Not a John Deere, but someone loves it, anyway. |
Oh, and home made pie. Real home made pie. Even rhubarb pie, which makes no excuse for its tartness with the addition of apologetic strawberries.
In this small town, people pile on wooden bleachers to watch people compete to see whose tractor can pull the most.
 |
| This tractor tried to get away. You can tell it's feral by the flames. |
There is a craft building full of handmade quilts on one side, and various antique household items on the other. There is a toy building with toys you might find some version of 50 years ago or today. There is an old one-room school house, complete with desks, books, and a school marm.
Here and there you can find pictures of this small town when it wasn't so small. When it had a Main Street full of store fronts, an opera house, and a Waldorf.
I try, once a year, to escape being grown up in the city to the small town during the Threshing Bee. To see the town, to see the people, and to see the spectacle that is the Threshing Bee.
Especially the steam engines.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
If looks could...
Make people leave me the hell alone, I would use them all the time.
My mom always told me that I have a look that I give people when I'm particularly perturbed that could peel paint. I, myself, have never seen it, but it must be somewhat effective because it seems to stop people in their tracks.
The other day after work, I'm waiting for the bus, as I do daily. As I'm waiting, I am approached by a man saying "can you spare a quarter? I need to catch a bus to [I have no idea where the fuck he said he wants to go because I've heard these two sentences innumerable times and I know damned well that he's just bothering people for change.]" I give my standard response "I don't carry any cash." Usually, that's enough. And usually, I'm not on the phone.
This time, though, I AM on the phone talking to my mother. I'm polite enough to respond, placing my hand over the receiver, and talking just loud enough for him to hear.
And this time, it's NOT enough. The guy asks me again. I tip my head and glare, then point to the phone, and mouth "seriously?" The guy's eyes widen and he covers his mouth, makes a gesture of apology, and can't move away fast enough.
I'll have to keep that in my arsenal.
That being said, this guy was just some kid/young adult doing what others do, not because they're mentally ill or homeless, or truly desperate. I think it's mostly because someone needs to spank them for intentionally taking advantage of the good will of others when they have the ability to provide for themselves.
Not everyone is so "lucky." There are a lot of people who have taken up harassing commuters and city visitors who need something other than discipline. These people need support and systemic change. These are the kind of people that current political trends are trying to sweep under the carpet, pretending they don't exist or that their lives aren't affected by the short-sighted policy lawmakers make. These are the kind of people who, with one misstep on their part or ours as a society, appear on the streets to make your experience at the opera or a baseball game uncomfortable.
Fortunately, thoughtful policy can help get some, if not many, of these people back into stable lives. And back out of your hair. (Proof: http://minnesota.publicradio.org/display/web/2011/03/03/minneapolis-crimes-panhandling/) While the former is more important, the latter is, unfortunately, what most people care about.
So, when you're counting your pennies and asking whether what you spend in taxes is money well spent, if you don't think about the good you can do for that individual suffering from schizophrenia on the street, at least think of the freedom you have from walking in those painfully high-heeled shoes too quickly because you want to get past that dirty-looking panhandler as quickly as possible.
Then, vote accordingly.
My mom always told me that I have a look that I give people when I'm particularly perturbed that could peel paint. I, myself, have never seen it, but it must be somewhat effective because it seems to stop people in their tracks.
The other day after work, I'm waiting for the bus, as I do daily. As I'm waiting, I am approached by a man saying "can you spare a quarter? I need to catch a bus to [I have no idea where the fuck he said he wants to go because I've heard these two sentences innumerable times and I know damned well that he's just bothering people for change.]" I give my standard response "I don't carry any cash." Usually, that's enough. And usually, I'm not on the phone.
This time, though, I AM on the phone talking to my mother. I'm polite enough to respond, placing my hand over the receiver, and talking just loud enough for him to hear.
And this time, it's NOT enough. The guy asks me again. I tip my head and glare, then point to the phone, and mouth "seriously?" The guy's eyes widen and he covers his mouth, makes a gesture of apology, and can't move away fast enough.
I'll have to keep that in my arsenal.
That being said, this guy was just some kid/young adult doing what others do, not because they're mentally ill or homeless, or truly desperate. I think it's mostly because someone needs to spank them for intentionally taking advantage of the good will of others when they have the ability to provide for themselves.
Not everyone is so "lucky." There are a lot of people who have taken up harassing commuters and city visitors who need something other than discipline. These people need support and systemic change. These are the kind of people that current political trends are trying to sweep under the carpet, pretending they don't exist or that their lives aren't affected by the short-sighted policy lawmakers make. These are the kind of people who, with one misstep on their part or ours as a society, appear on the streets to make your experience at the opera or a baseball game uncomfortable.
Fortunately, thoughtful policy can help get some, if not many, of these people back into stable lives. And back out of your hair. (Proof: http://minnesota.publicradio.org/display/web/2011/03/03/minneapolis-crimes-panhandling/) While the former is more important, the latter is, unfortunately, what most people care about.
So, when you're counting your pennies and asking whether what you spend in taxes is money well spent, if you don't think about the good you can do for that individual suffering from schizophrenia on the street, at least think of the freedom you have from walking in those painfully high-heeled shoes too quickly because you want to get past that dirty-looking panhandler as quickly as possible.
Then, vote accordingly.
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