Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Forks in the Road

I've been formally educated in the field of Art. I started my professional life practicing in the field of Science. I eventually returned to the field of Art, but not in a position that reflected or even allowed me to put forth my truest abilities.

Currently, I work in the commercial aspect of a manufacturing company. I'm probably more happily situated here than anywhere I have been in my lengthy professional career. Not only do I enjoy the meticulous and analytical aspects of the position, but I do believe I've made noticeable strides. I only dare to conclude this because of one conversation that I overheard and a comment that was made in front of me.

The conversation I overheard was that of the company's Controller who was on the phone with an external contact. He proceeded to give said contact my contact information and a quick explanation of who I was. "She's been with us for a while now and is, by far, the best we've had. Her work ethic is tremendous."

The comment made in front of me was made by the owner of the company at a meeting, also with external contacts. He introduced me: "We've had some challenges over the years but she's phenomenal at this position and has been able to clean up past problems, so I trust her completely."

Yes, I'm patting myself on the back. I don't believe that doing so should be a negative quality. Everyone should be clearly in tune with their strengths. I think we get bogged down by the more-often offered knocks in life so we don't know what to do with the star-stickers on our foreheads. Such a shame.

Make your list. Tell yourself what it is you're good at. Remind yourself of your strengths.

*Image: Thanks to Dave Kellet's Sheldon strip for repeatedly representing me in so many ways.

Num, num, num

I like yogurt. I've been uncharacteristically unadventurous in this realm, however, and seek to right this wrong. I'll be doing so with a simple but comprehensive taste test in the next few days. Stay tuned for results and meticulous analysis, as is my way.

*Image: washingtondcjazznetwork.ning.com

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Monday, March 14, 2011

Muffet and Co.

We live in a house full of spiders. In all shapes and sizes, they're everywhere but don't generally make a nuisance of themselves. They mind their own business and thank us to do the same.

It's likely that there are so many because we have a large and bountiful garden with flowers and fruit trees that is surely home to a wide variety of critters that would otherwise overtake us. So, in that sense, spiders are good. They serve a purpose. Inside, it's a little harder to justify their occasional appearance, but even then we are tolerant, usually either shooing them out of doors or just ignoring them and letting them have their little corner web. Favorite spots are predictable: corner of the shower where it's nice and damp; that lower shelf in the pantry that gets little disruption; large houseplant; under a bed or sofa.


We are not paranoid about them because they've not proven to be aggressive. I'm sensitive to bug bites, so I'd be the first one raising hell if I suspected there was an eradication campaign to raise. This isn't to say that I haven't on occasion awoken in the morning to find a suspicious bug bite on a too-temptingly offered leg or arm. I know the difference between a mosquito and spider bite. I can handle a spider bite. They last longer and are more about pain than itching, but at least it's not that incessant itching of the mosquito bite that makes you want to take your own life. Still, if the incidents became more regular than a couple a year, I'm sure we'd all sit up and take better notice. As it is, sharing room and board seems to be the easier option.


I have, occasionally found the questionable intruder. Specifically, once in the garage and once in the garden, I came across a Black Widow. Not one to mince words, I took matters into my own hands, right quick, dousing with venom and then smashing with the heaviest hiking boot I could find, for good measure. One feels mightily olympic on such occasions, let me tell you. "I have killed deadly vermin. I am invincible." Still, the encounters have been so conspicuously few and far between that our view of the arachnid family is more a conspiratorial one. "You get those mosquitoes now, y'hear?"


We're coming up on garden spider season soon. It's a yearly festival involving our largest participants, and much learning on our part. It took years, but we finally got a copy of the treaty ingrained into our little noggins. Come sundown, the garden no longer belongs to us. We leave the premises and assemble indoors, to leave the little guys to their art. In turn, they build the largest webs I've ever encountered, stringing them from tree to tree, big as banners, and rid the night of anything careless enough to flutter by.


If you're afraid of spiders, garden spider season is the very makings of a horror story because not only are the webs fantastically enormous, hard to see, easy to run into, and creepy on your skin; the garden spiders that make them are only ever around during this season, and unlike the small, unremarkable indoor spiders that we see all year long, garden spiders are like the blue whale of the spiders around here. They are huge and with their striped markings look malevolent, tame though they are. As I said, it took us all a while to figure out that they were more than happy to share our living space with us if we would simply abide by the rules, and stop walking into their little masterpieces, dammit.


Today, a spider visited me in my room. A small guy, he seemed to be staking out a spot on my book shelves to make a home. I'm tolerant, not stupid, so I smashed him. I had no choice. I could tell by his size that he'd be quick if I tried to shoo him outside. It's not so much that he would have scurried away as I would have had him on my hand and walking to the door, and he likely would have bungee jumped off my palm and complicated everything by having me spend the next thirty minutes crawling around to locate him again, etc., etc.


The one I encountered outside the garage, I left alone, though I warned him that I was coming back with a load of laundry and limited visibility so, y'know... scoot over.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Peeves, Pet or Not

It's pronounced "FiFFFth" not "Fith." The root word is five. It's even spelled out and everything. No ignoring the "f," dammit.




*Image: http://www.impawards.com/fun/letter_f.html

The Occassional Enforced Spree


I'm here to report that the economy is alive and well. At least in my particular microcosm and within my specific shopping parameters. Neither of which is impressively vast.

Today I saw myself obligated to endure a shopping excursion. My first of the month budgeting plans have delineated what I have funds for, so every weekend I do my weekly grocery shopping for the bag lunches that I like to prepare. Bag lunching doesn't mean that I want to stick to sandwiches, though, so I like to plan out my meals and then get creative about keeping the ingredients to my budget. Some weeks, it's a challenge. With lent underway, I have one more factor to take into account, so it's become more than a one-stop-shopping situation now.


Fresh produce is at the basis of my meals, with varying proteins coming in a close second. I'm not elitist about where my veggies come from, so I look for the bargains, but there's the occasional specialty item for which I have no choice but to visit the hoity-toity stores. The specialized cheeses (I don't screw around about my cheeses), the rarer condiments or fresh snack options (almonds, hummus, blueberries) simply must be fresh.


I actually enjoy grocery shopping. I'm backwards that way. I like looking through the variety of produce and fresh foods that spark new meal planning options for the future. Cooking is like painting. You can make anything, you just have to know how the ingredients will work together.


On the other hand, there is no hell like the shopping mall. I did have to make a trip to Bloomingdale's. I have no problem with Bloomies, in particular, I could just as easily have gone to any department store with the same sense of doom. I'm just not a shopper. My mother says that I was clearly born without the gene. Even as a teenager I never went through the shopping spree phase.


When I shop, I shop on a mission. Go in, get the thing, get out. Cover me. On the phone this morning, even my friend commented, "Uh, you don't strike me as a Bloomingdale's kinda gal..." That's only because I'm not. As in grocery shopping, I'm perfectly content to search out the bargains and be done. But as in grocery shopping there are some deal breakers. In this case it's about the health and well being of my eyes. Seeing as I'm stuck with the same two eyeballs for the balance of my life span, I'd like them to be at their best. And for some inexplicable reason, over the years I've tried the full gamut of mascara options, most of which have the annoying tendency to flake or puddle under my eyes by the end of a work day, or worse are those that have actually caused irritation as they melt and blend into my natural skin oils and then seep into my eyes and burn with a vengeance. One specific line of Lancome is the only brand that does neither of the above. I am a loyal investor. 'Nuff said.


I also had to go to The Container Store to get... well, a container. That's it. Two items, two stores. For this, I had to put up with a parking structure full of chipper shoppers out to prove that the California economy is just waiting for them to upchuck the contents of their wallets, and all will be well. Up and down the aisles, stuck behind every Lexus, Hummer, and BMW in the land, my little anonymous jalopy and I coped by blasting Pat Benetar..."WE ARE YOUNG! Heartache to heartache WE STAND! No promises, no demands... LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD! No-uo-uo-uoooooooo!......"


True to my mojo, once at Bloomie's, I made a bee-line to the Lancome counter, requested the exact mascara that I needed, paid, turned around and exited the building. Same with The Container Store where I was accosted with an invitation to stay and watch a demo on closet organization. Admittedly, our abode could benefit by such information, but if anyone in my family is going to make that happen, it's likely going to be me, and it's not in my budget at the moment which made the whole point moot, so I paid and exited the building.


I am now home. Most women would be giddy about their new cosmetics or nifty organizational tools. Me, I'm having visions of how I'm going to put that pimento to use.


*Image:
studentsoftheworld.info

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Marginal Life

My side bar content has finally been updated. A thousand pardons for neglecting that. Feel free to peruse.

Wisdom, Wit, and Wonder:

"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Andrum's Conundrum:

If you could have permanent possession of any single object in the world, what would it be?

A Thousand Words:


Foodie on a Mission

Ok, so we're all familiar with my love affair with books. I don't think I've yet talked about my second love involving food. Specifically, the ingestion of.

Where to begin? I love food. Mostly, I lean towards the savory variety. I'm not so big on sweets, though a good dessert once in a while is much appreciated. But salt is my undoing. Cravings are usually in that vein and can be as simple as potato chips or as complex as a prosciutto and goat cheese omelet with rosemary potatoes. The latter happens to be my latest craving and I'm having no luck finding an establishment that will honor me with the goods. I've Googled it, such is my desperation. The problem is that I used to go to a place that made it and it has since closed down. It's a very specific order, so as much as I can find variations on it, I've not found it exactly like that.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I should just make it myself and be done with it. But you know how it is. There's a difference between making a hamburger at home and buying one from the experts. Or hot dogs. Have you ever made a hot dog at home that tasted like the street vendors'? Exactly. So you see my dilemma.

I always end up getting Eggs Benedict instead. Not that I'm complaining.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Earth and Sea

Last night, the earthquake in Japan was originally reported as 7.9. Later it went up to 8.8, then 8.9. The footage was horrifying. Especially the tsunami video. Incredibly, it's the first time we get live footage of a tsunami, from professional entities, and as it happens instead of the survivor's home video off of a phone or something. I found myself having to actively tell myself that this was no special effects trick for a movie. Those were real buildings and cars getting swallowed up. People lived through that. Or didn't. I'm torn between being fascinated at the power of it - in terms of Mother Nature's wonders - and feeling that we shouldn't be watching what may be some people's lives being ended.

*Image: http://www.flickr.com/photos/shereen84/2320321157/

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Set in Ash

Yesterday at the close of the day, as I curled up all warm-like in my bed, I realized it had been Ash Wednesday and I hadn’t made it to Mass. This was a first. I’m usually right on top of these things. I was quite upset with myself.

Today, I got to thinking about the lent I’m going to do. Aside from the no-meat Fridays, I like to make a second promise, usually along the lines of no coffee or no eating out during the whole of lent. This year, I batted the idea around a bit and nothing seemed to be right. Fasting seemed a bit too arbitrary. I want my lent to have some meaning.

And then it occurred to me. I have this OCD way of keeping my office immaculate. Everyone at works comments on it and how if they didn’t know me better they’d suspect I don’t have any work to do. But I just can’t work with piles of paper and stacks of odds and ends everywhere, so I always keep my files in an organized fashion, and whatever I’m working on is neatly arranged on my desk and not in wild disarray. This is a far cry from how I conduct my personal accounts.

At home, I always have a pile of clothes (freshly laundered, mind you) on my chair, waiting to be hung up or folded. My bills and mail, in general, gets piled up until I address it at the first of every month (at least I do address it, though). My filing system is long overdue for a cleaning out; storing documents older than two years, creating hanging files for quick storage every month, and tossing anything irrelevant. I’m good about budgeting, and keeping a financial plan alive, but I get careless when it comes to having everything at hand. Simple things like our pets’ vet files need to be updated so that I can see quickly who is due for shots, etc., instead of having to research it. Things like that. Plus, I don’t like clutter. There are items and some books that may be ready for Goodwill.

So, this year, my lent promise isn’t going to be about what not to do but, rather, what to do. I’m going to give myself the 40 days of lent to conduct my personal business with the same meticulous care that I practice in my professional life. The purpose being that by the end of the 40 days, I should be all squared away, plus I will have adopted new continuous habits to use on a regular basis.

I think it’s a good plan. So far, today I’ve done my bed linens and am working on a couple of loads of laundry. I’m going to fight the instinct to dump them on the chair. I will not go to bed tonight without putting both loads away.


*Image: republicofaustin.com

Monday, March 7, 2011

UpDownUpDown



We will call this the roller-coaster weekend.

Last night I turned on the TV and saw on TV Guide that the Les Mis concert would be on PBS. Yay! So I tune in. I get a text from cousin, "Les Mis is on PBS!" I text back, "I KNOW!!!" and then I text other cousin to let her in on it too.

As I'm watching, I see on the scrolling thingy that tickets are on sale for Les Mis at the Ahmanson. Thinking I must be losing my mind because I've been signed up to a website that is supposed to tell me when the musical comes back to the US (yes, I'm a nerd) and I've not gotten any kind of update. Sure enough, The Ahmanson had started selling tickets THAT DAY at 11am and they were going fast.

So then, of course, I took to running through the house yelling, "Who wants tickets?! I'm buying tickets!!! Who wants tickets?!" Mom was on the phone to my aunt in Mexico and had to put her on hold so she could pretty much shut me up by giving me the green light to count her in. Dad's going too. I called both cousins and one is in too but the other ended up buying tickets with hubby for the same day but for the matinee show versus the evening show. Dork.

So I just purchased four tickets and now I have to stop hyperventilating and wait patiently for June to come around.


*Image: monica-dorkface.deviantart.com

Saturday, March 5, 2011

A Momentous Occasion



Fanfare, please! I've just noticed that I've acquired a brand spankin' new follower, and one I don't actually know in real life [read: an indulgent family member] or have met in other sites.

The pressure's on to be witty, interesting, funny, addictive.

This can only end badly. I apologize in advance if this investment turns out not to be what you had hoped for.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

The Way to My Pink Heart



I continue to be perplexed by my own body's cravings. I don't remember ever having eaten those pink wads of sugar and preservatives they call Hostess Sno Balls.

Today, with no prompting, no visual suggestion or reason I can recall, I've told myself this would really hit the spot.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Financially Stunted

Such a doofus, I am. I amaze myself.

It's not like I'm swimming in the dough. Makes me wonder just what the hell kind of blind spot I have sometimes. I'm sitting here doing my 1st of the month budgeting and getting all settled in and what not. I went into my files and found a check that I never even opened. From August. It's sort of like finding free money, yes, and I would be doing a little dance and some junk except that it says that it's void after 180 days. So I did some quick math and we're just past the 200-day mark.

Dammit. Now what.