thus far... one more thing

A film festival. That's what came to our little town and I can't tell you how excited I am. The films, many of them, are a few years old. But that didn't matter to us. Something to do on Friday night! And free!

We watched the documentary Garbage Dreams which followed three Zaballeen teens as they navigate a couple of those rough growing-up years in the trash trade in Cairo.

A couple of things I know absolutely nothing about? Cairo. The trash trade there.

But we both enjoyed this film quite a bit and now I know a couple of things about Cairo and the trash trade and I tell you, I've never been quite so inspired to recycle (Sorry Al Gore, no offense of course). Those teens know more about recycling than I think I'll know in my lifetime.

Enjoy this trailer, if for no other reason than that I finally learned how to embed (very simple) code.


www.documentary.org

...he just smiled and gave me a vegemite sandwich

I was just told, for the second time, that I have an Australian accent.

Other than the fact that I've made a conscious effort to pronounce my "t"s in words like "mountain" and "Brighton" I have no idea where this comes from.

Though, it could have been because I greeted him with a "G'day mate", made several references to "Down Under", and called my cookie a "biscuit".

Just kidding.

Now I'm curious what accent an Australian thinks I have...

bowerbird

I love moments when you discover that something you thought was universal turns out not to be universal.

Consider a conversation I had this evening.

We enter mid-conversation:

Kap: [deep breath as if to say something--silence]
j: What was that you were about to say?
Kap: Well, I wanted to say something at this point in time, but I didn't come up with an idea of what to say quickly enough. So I chose to be silent. [Pause to ascertain understanding] Does that ever happen to you?
j: [Thinking] I don't think it ever has. [With a laugh] I can't seem to get the things I want to say out fast enough. They always seem to get backed up in my brain, fighting against the queue to get out.
So, really? Sometimes you don't have anything to say at the moment?
Kap: Really. Or more accurately, I don't have anything that I find interesting enough to say.
j: Wait, so you're telling me you rifle through the Rolodex of interesting topics and sometimes decide that there isn't anything interesting enough to verbalize?
Kap: Yep.
j: Fascinating.

Needless to say, I could learn a thing or two from our good friend, Kappy.

Has this type of revelation happened to you? Or is it just me that tends to think that everyone is just like me?

p.s. Some people actually like the movie "The Pacifier". This was news to me too, and I learned the hard way. Remember that backed up queue of thoughts? Yeah, that can get you into trouble.

Dear 19 D:

Dear 19 D:

I hope I'm not inconveniencing you too much if I ask that you please reconsider.

Reconsider, that is, your choice to bring lunch onto the aircraft. It is not merely that you have chosen to bring lunch with you, but that you have chosen to bring a burrito lunch with you.

Considering that this DC9 has only 21 snugly spaced rows, do you think that was the wisest choice?

Imagine my chagrin when halfway through the flight I am hit with a wave of recirculated carne asada only to find you noisily (I assume by the look of it) gnawing at your lunch with nary a care as to what your co-passengers might be suffering. What seems to you to be a private luncheon leaves us a captive audience to your olfactorily offensive exhibition.

I would appreciate your careful consideration in this matter and all others like unto it.

Sincerely,
20 B

jackie smaz is: what's on your mind?

I remember the first time I heard the phrase, "If you think it will happen, it will happen." I was immediately struck with silent terror.

"That can't be possible," I reasoned, "That much power is terrifying."

I could be considered an expert in formulating the worst case scenario and I had made a habit of playing back each possibility in my mind just to make sure I had run a thorough analysis of the situation and had time to formulate a back up plan should some unfortunate situation arise.

And plan I did.

So much so, that when the time came for me to be introduced to, "If you think it will happen, it will happen," a wrench was thrown into my well-oiled routine.

You can imagine how frantic my efforts might have been. "Test today. My pencil may not be a No. 2. One can't be entirely sure of that. I may sit behind a throat-clearer, or in front of a seat-kicker, or encounter some other form of distraction. Or I might blank entirely, or misspell 'bourgeoisie' or forget to put my name on the exam, or forget to go to the exam, or forget there is an exam, or--" and then it would hit me, "If you think it..."

Then my fear index would increase several points making it entirely impossible for me to not "think it". So I came up with a back up plan.

"I am not thinking it," I would repeat to myself, "No really, no joke, I am NOT thinking it."

My thinking? If devote a tremendous amount of time to thinking about NOT thinking about the things I'm actually thinking about, wouldn't it stand to reason (based on this new mantra) that I would begin to not think about them? My thoughts exactly.

And to this day I still occasionally catch myself demanding that I not think about whatever worst case scenario I've created.

Really.



No joke.



I am not thinking it.

the K12 dude

I was washing a bag of home grown carrots our neighbors gave us when this friend came to visit.

A little reminiscent of Better Off Dead's french fry montage. Which kind of makes me shiver. And then, softly, Van Halen began to play...

Orion, and his belt

It's late and I think I'm getting sick. I can feel it behind my nose getting swollen and painful. I don't get sick a lot, but when I do this is where it starts. So I got up to make myself some tea and ended up burning my finger.

I can't help thinking it's a kind of metaphor.

Or an Aesop fable of sorts. You know the kind. Fox selfishly gets ill then selfishly gets up to make himself tea. Fox ends up burning his finger. Wait...

Anyway, you get the point and that is, I wish I could start over. Start over getting sick, making the tea, moving here, starting my job, this post.

But since we're this far in on all counts, I need to find a way to put some ice on the proverbial burns and make the most of it. Like now, for example. I think my tea is cool enough to drink. Now that's a happy ending.

Hey, Wal-Mart.

Bananas don't need their own plastic bag.

You can put my avocado and Golden Delicious(es) with them.

Thank you.

p.s. I rode the cart like a scooter out to my car today unashamed. Kapital B, you'd be proud.

enchilada style?

Friends!

We had a little Cafe Rio away from home. I came upon a recipe very much like their delicious pork via a fellow fan and then tried to make it an authentic experience complete with, "Black o Pinto beans?"

And was it delicious?

To that I say emphatically, "Indeed."

And the only thing it lacked, I am happy to report, is a fuss made over a Free Meal.

Next step: Learn to make a delicious flan. But I'd settle for Tres Leches too.

thus far: 4th edition

Three more things I like about, WI:

Giving me the chance to give running a chance.

WI and I... we like running. I have to send

all of my positive energy to my shins...

they don't like running.

Our first harvest!

That's one nice looking banana pepper.

Here's to more tomatoes, bell peppers, jalapeno peppers,

carrots, onions, beans, basil, rosemary, and oregano.

That good ol' WI way of doing things.

Farmer's Appreciation day this weekend folks.

I'm told there is a killer parade.

to be continued...

weather and me

Being from the Great Basin I never thought much about what I would do in a tornado situation.

Sure, we had the earthquake drills every year (because, as was the buzz around our elementary school, each year was thee year that the fault hugging our neighborhood boulevard would violently give way) but a tornado? That was something that happened in places where people had shaky video cameras and southern accents.

These were the thoughts that crossed my mind as I sat late at night in our stuffy bathroom staring at the old can of baked beans I had clumsily taken from the pantry and listening to the who-knows-what-sized hail batter our windows. "What does one do in this situation? " I thought. "One certainly doesn't just sit here staring at baked beans reminiscing about the good ol' days when it was unlikely earthquakes we were worried about."

Earlier, as the tornado siren blared it's warning through the air and before the baked beans we checked the national weather service to "make sure" and as I read over the storms predicted path I saw our little town mentioned followed by, "STORMS MOVE QUICKLY. TAKE COVER NOW!"

And that cover, in our apartment sans basement, is our little bathroom.

I gave our Survival Radio/Flashlight a couple good cranks on the charger and attempted to tune the station to something other than country music without much luck and in the end settled on a tune about a man's truck and his dog. We listened for a half second frightend by the thought that this could potentially be our only link to the outside world during the storm. "At least we know there's still a radio tower out there," we said trying to laugh.

And the tornado never came. And the hail stopped, and the warning was lifted, and the trees settled down. And we started feeling stupid about actually being afraid. I watched as the sky sparked with a million bursts of lightning and the clouds rumbled in frustration.

And even though this tornado never materialized just like that terrible earthquake we are supposed to get back home some day, I'm still amazed at how flippantly our weather can forget about us, almost like a bad friend, as if to say, "I'm getting tired of you and I don't care about you and never have. And I don't care how that makes you feel," knowing that we'll call again the next day needing a friend.

And now that I've gone all Ira Glass on you, I promise not to start my next post with, "Our show today - in three acts..."

so, here's my dilemma

I cannot seem to get very far reading The Omnivore's Dilemma.

But I feel like I should. I mean, I'm an omnivore, and I often find this problematic. You might say, I find it dilemmatic at times. Also, I was given the book to borrow close to a year ago. I'm pretty sure I've crossed over from being politely interested to being a thief. This whole situation might end with a phone call that begins something like this, "So, hey, did you think that omnivore's dilemma book was yours?"

So, I've abandoned the idea for a time. It seems only logical.

And now I'm on to birds.

other than mustard

A list of things I really appreciate this spring:

1. St. Joe's Fish Fry

2. Red-winged Blackbird calls

3. noisy geese

4. green paths

5. Moonlighter frisbee

6. voices of family coming through my phone

7. growing up...

8. spinach

9. shoulder and chest fit-model for "Jack"

10. This American Life

What are you grateful for this spring?

checked at the style level

Ok, so maybe office life isn't for me. I think I've made that abundantly clear. So here's one more thing and I'll leave you alone about it.

I moved desks... again, which is exciting I suppose except for one thing. When I arrived at my new cube it took me all of two tenths of a second to notice a tone. A tone of the kind that catches the material my head is made of and reverberates infinitely there in a way only physics can explain. A tone that has the potential to drive one mad. After a few frenzied moments in search of its source, I discovered it and resigned myself to the sad truth. The tone would remain. And not only that, but it creates a kind of "white noise" effect around my little space so that when others walk by muttering salutations, or grumblations I find that I hear nothing.

So to ensure that I don't grow even more mad than I already seem to be, I came up with a quick solution.

24-hour NPR program stream.

It's great. They repeat themselves quite a bit, but it's much better than the alternative, and I find that I can repeat news tidbits with almost 100% accuracy by the end of the day.

On Mondays I treat myself to the previous week's episode of Wait, Wait... Don't Tell Me! (Hang with me here, I have a point... of sorts) where they cited a study that said that those that blog about their personal lives and woes are happier than those who do not (we can thank Wait, Wait for this kind of random, lacking-in-the-repeatability-area, study).

So, here goes:

When people say, "Everyone has these kinds of anxieties..." I wish they would elaborate.

And there you have it. I'm testin' the theory.

By the way, someone mentioned also (on NPR) that people with jobs, even if they aren't the best fit, are happier than those who do not. And at the end of the day, I'm extremely grateful for my job.

Thanks, NPR for saving me from madness.

because it was finally above zero instead of below

Check this out...

July

vs.

January

Eventually we snowshoed across the lake and up to the top of the hill to overlook the other lake. Then we slid down, cut out chunks of hard snow and attempted a discus tournament (I won), and went home to get warm. Beautiful day. I can't believe this is the same place.

thus far: 3rd edition

I'm absolutely thrilled.



This weekend marks the annual weekend when locals get in FREE OF CHARGE.

"Free of charge to where?" you might be asking yourself. And my answer would indeed be: the House on the Rock of course.

This uniquely Midwestern "attraction" offers a full visual and auditory explanation as to (as the age old adage suggests) why "one man's trash is another man's treasure." Only here in our icy little corner of the earth can you create an entire empire out of colored glass and Christmas mug collections. Oh, and lest I forget, a house on a rock.


We were not fortunate enough to pay the entire (exorbitant) entrance fee when we were mere tourists (keep in mind that all working there, when pressed, which we did, provide nothing more than a vague biography of the man who built the place) so we opted for a third of the tour and close to a third of the cost.

What we got, however, was two hours of what felt very much like the pack rat's version of the 1971 film interpretation of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory... minus the Oompa Loompas and Gene Wilder. But of course, I can't be certain about the Oompa Loompas.


The experience included but definitely was not limited to collections of almost anything, haphazardly packed into every crevasse of this ever expanding compound. Take this lighter collection, for example, much of which was really fascinating. Then I noticed this particular cluster of clutter...


Yep. That's "one-a-them" hundred dollar bill lighters next to the Play Boy Bunny paraphernalia. Ah, to collect!


But in the true Reading Rainbow tradition, don't take my word for it. I'm only telling you a fraction of the sights to be seen and you have to experience it for yourself when next you are in town. Only, I'd recommend coming this weekend... free of charge.

Dense Fog Advisory

Did you know they don't have any emoticon for "fog"?

They've got one for "sunny" and "rainy" and they've even got a sliver-of-a-moon for moon-ish moods.

But no fog.

How do I know?

Well, I entertain myself throughout the day instant message-ing (I'm fairly new to it, so it still holds some charm for me) my husband observations of the weather limiting myself to emoticons only. See, I am lucky enough to have a giant window just a few steps from my desk, whereas he, unfortunately, does not. So, naturally, I fill him in on what's going on outside. He hasn't necessarily asked for such a service, but I'm sure he finds it beneficial. I mean, who wouldn't?

Anyway, today there was fog. And I searched and searched my small box of options for a "fog" or a "fog" replacement, but to no avail! Not a fog to be seen. I even looked for a "frog + Y - R" option, but unless he can interpret "sheep" (why do they even have that option?) as "frog" it wasn't working.

So, I typed him "pizza slice" to which he relied "smiley-at-a-birthday-party" and we continued on with our day.

Now, it's true. I just spent two minutes of your time talking about emoticons, a fact I hoped would never be listed among my achievements, but I thought it worth informing you in case you find yourself in a similar predicament--and you may.

On a more interesting note, it's hot chocolate season.

Tuesday felt like Friday

Here is my thinking:


Complimentary coffee (complete with Styrofoam cups, Sweet 'N Low, creamer, and those cool little stirring straws) is a kind gesture employers give to their hardworking employees.



But what they should really give out as a "gift" is a big bowl o' mints.


My reasons are two fold.


One, because mints are delicious and universally applicable... and delicious.


And two, because who hasn't found themselves at some point during the workday in dire need of a mint?


So here is my plan.


I'm going to buy myself a very plain looking plastic bowl and a bag of delicious mints and I'm going to set them at the coffee station, perhaps near the toaster.


People will come along and obviously be in need of a mint (I mean, they're either getting coffee or warming an English muffin... they'll need a mint, I'm sure) and they'll be glad there is one, even two, there for the taking.


I'll replenish the bowl as needed for a short duration, and then when the time is right, I'll let the bowl go disappointingly empty.


Some savvy young employee in charge of supplying the coffee station with essential complimentary comforts will see the need for more mints and, eager to impress his superiors, he'll get the job done.


And so on and so forth until mints are a staple (no pun intended) at the coffee station and no one can remember when there weren't mints for the taking.


Success!











I'll let you know how all of this goes.

"he don't listen"

Ok.


There is something that has bothered me for some time.


And as I sat at my desk today during long sprees of copy-and-pasting, and trying not to listen to gossipping for gossip's sake intermingled with jokes said in poor taste I dedicated some thought to it once again.


And that is this:


The word vermilion does not in any way match the actual color of vermilion.

I mean, in no way does the word vermilion make you think of bright red with a hit of orange. The letters in the word are not warm and bright, and they definitely aren't red.

And the sound of the word! Even further from the actual color it describes! A greyish-blue perhaps. Even a icy blue, but red?!? My goodness, no.


You can see how strongly I feel about this.


So what better to do than to ask people who probably know better than I do. That is to say, all of you. My questions being, what is with that name?


Any information you can give me will be greatly appreciated.

Personal opinions most definitely valued.

format cells

Under the buzz of weary fluorescent lighting and over the "stand-up" station cubicle dividers someone business-professional-ly hollered, "Don't be a stranger."

I looked to the bright yellow flowers of the potted plant sitting on my desk, an empty thank you! notice conspicuously sticking out of the dirt, then down at the bar coded sticker that still remained on the over sized yellow (and loud) cellophane wrapped around the plastic pot. "How do I reply to that?"

"OK." managed to stumble out of my mouth just to end an awkward silence that, in a world of Excel sheets and deadlines, seemed to be going on for too long. She was busy, I could tell, because she's always busy. That and because she was hollering at me from over the divider where I could barely see the top of her head, maybe even the rims of her glasses. It takes all of two seconds to come around to where I sit.

So, I stopped working for a minute to add onto my rubber band ball and to think. What does that phrase even mean?

I didn't come to any kind of conclusion but apparently I have agreed to "not be a stranger".

I hope I succeed.