Slackaliciousness

*Insert ritual apologies for not posting here.*

I've been enjoying some serious slackitude for the past week, starting with a fab dinner with Friend and the Brazen Tart last Monday, continuing through this past weekend, which included more fresh tomatos, and beer school, and some fabulous food with Friend, and weeding his back (brick) patio (for which I am suffering today, in the form of scraped hands and sore muscles). Work has even been interesting, in the sense that I am basically going to have to build an infrastructure, nearly single-handedly, which should be interesting. Not easy, but definitely interesting.

Last week's go-round with Chuck has been occupying my mind during idle moments, but I think I'm going to keep that to myself for the time being.

I have nothing to watch on television at the moment (except the two Netflix movies sitting somewhere, except I got them for the express purpose, and in one case ("Dogma") at the express request, of sharing with Friend), because the Tour de France is long over, as are the Olympics (which I only watched in a half-assed fashion), and I do not care about the conventions. I realize that is sacrilege, especially for a supposed politics junkie like myself, but I really do not care. I can read the speeches, and even find them on YouTube if need be, and meanwhile I don't care. There's no way in hell I'd ever vote for John-did-I-mention-I-was-a-POW-McCain, and, as you all know, Barack and I are not BFF, so I'm kinda meh about the whole thing. (Joe Biden?? Really? Joe voted-for-a-hideous-bankruptcy-bill Biden? Glad to see you're out there supporting us working folk, Barack!) On the other hand, I am so very, very tired of the pumathing. Seriously, can't you tell that it's mostly the republicans who are stirring this pot? Christ on a cracker; didn't you learn anything from watching Nixon and his evil minions these past 50 years? And the idiots in the media--the so-called-left-wing-media, as they say--run after it, frothing, so that every other goddamned story is about Dissension & Division in the Ranks. Yeah, right; as though every other primary season has been an exercise in crowning the new candidate with rose petals strewn at his feet and not a hint of disagreement, but the Evil! Wimmins! just won't cooperate! Because they're old! & Bitter! It makes my eyes hurt from the rolling.

Thus, I have not turned the television on, though I may do so for The Daily Show. I did go to the library tonight, to pick up the two books on hold for me, and of course I left with three others, because I am unable to exercise any self control whatsoever when I am in a library, even when I have to carry the books home with me without crushing my strawberries, and even when walking is a little difficult because I have sore spots from the weeding. I kind of miss wandering the stacks, and I have not reestablished my Library Notebook, but the put-it-on-hold-and-have-it-delivered-to-the-library-
that-is-mere-blocks-from-work thing rocks my world. (The Library Notebook is a thing my dad started a couple of decades ago: a little notebook in which he'd write down books or authors he wanted to read, so he could remember when he went to the library. I had one, too, for years, and found it invaluable, especially when I was reading the NYT book review regularly, but then I stopped and now I don't read the NYT much, so I'm using post-it notes on my bulletin board at work. Which isn't as good as the Library Notebook.)

And, finally, I am back to baking regularly again, sort of. I have my breakfast muffin recipe nearly at the stage where I won't change it any more. I did not make chocolate chip cookies again this weekend, but I did make a banana cream pie (with a chocolate crust) for Friend, and I'm contemplating how I'll change it next time. I'm also wondering how I managed to gain a pound a day over the last three days, given the relative healthiness of my eating habits. It's too depressing, especially because I have not managed to get to the gym for interval workouts in more than a month (though I have been walking a couple of days a week). This whole exercise question is continuing to vex me, but I'll spare you my whining about it tonight. It'll keep.

Drink Me

Oh-my-yes, we did manage to have fun.

Friday we had dinner at this great tex-mex place, complete with margaritas. We followed that with live music on the terrace at the UW student union. Saturday morning we got up not-that-late, had a wonderful breakfast overlooking the lake at the Schmancy restaurant where Friend waited tables some 30 years ago (but at which he never ate), then meandered through the Madison farmers' market, where we scored tomatos, cheese curds, and sourdough bread for Sunday. We hung at the room for a little while, then walked to the park next to the hotel, where, after a short wait, we entered the beer festival (and met up with Friend's friend the Enchanter, whom Friend has known since they were 5 or so, and with Friend's brother-in-law). There were many, many beers; the four-ounce tasting glass was perfect, and, because you only pay an entry fee, if there was something you hated? You could dump it. I only dumped two, between 1:20 pm and about 6:00 pm. There were some truly impressive beers, and we didn't come close to tasting even half of them. We probably didn't even get to half the breweries, for that matter. We weren't the least bit systematic this year, because we were kind of just checking things out, and we still managed to taste a lot. We've already decided we'll be there next year, too, unless the Indy cars go to RoadAmerica that weekend. Afterwards, Friend's sister picked us all up (because we had all been drinking all day), we grabbed some dinner together, followed by ice cream at the student union, then she dropped off me and Friend, and we crashed nearly instantaneously, even though it wasn't even 10 pm.

Sunday we had another fab breakfast, at a little brasserie, then headed to a nude beach for awhile. We were only there for an hour or so, but it was perfect weather and a nice place to kill some time. Then we got back in our clothes and the vehicle and headed to Alpine, where we tailgaited (sourdough baguette, cheese curds, fresh tomatos, venison summer sausage, and a couple of beers) and then went to hear the Black Crows and the Dave Matthews Band. We had seats this year, thanks to Friend's diligence, which was a significant improvement over last year's escapades. Getting out of there was predictably slow, so we didn't get home until 3 am and were thus a little crispy at our respective jobs today, but that sure was a lot of fun packed into about 60 hours.

And now we're trying to decide whether to go to Burningman. Or, rather, Friend has to do the major deciding, because he'd have to do all the driving. It would cost money--at least a grand apiece, I'm thinking, and probably a little more--and it would cost all my vacation days, but it could be serious fun, plus another friend would have all of the infrastructure there for us, reducing what we'd have to bring by quite a bit. No telling yet which way we'll go on this.

Meanwhile, though, I must get some sleep. The four or so hours last night would have been a little longer, except Friend's cat was extremely pesky this morning, probably because she wanted some attention--having been deprived for several days--as well as because I normally feed her by 6:00 or so but slept until 7:30 or so this morning. She's not normally that pesky, and she had been alone all weekend (she's a pretty social cat, and, once she knows you and isn't hiding any more, will take advantage of any lap she can find), so I cut her some slack. And scratched her ears for her, too, while I was at it.

Whine, Whine, Whine

I had half a post written the other night. Then it was stormy and K called to tell me that yes, those sirens were tornado sirens, so I went to the laundry room (we don't have a basement) until that part was over, came back upstairs, sat down in front of the computer . . . and the electricity went out. For the night. Along with the hot water. Thus, yesterday began with a cold shower, included more frustrating interactions with coworkers, and, midafternoon, featured a poke in the cervix with a sharp stick. Luckily, that was followed by drinking beer with Friend, as he detailed our agenda for the coming weekend. He has put much time and thought and effort into said planning, as well as dealing with some difficult bits of his own (which shall remain private), so I am touched by the whole thing.

My electricity is restored, as is my hot water, but my answering machine appears to have died, which is annoying. Also, I did not go to a yoga class tonight, I have not worked on the editing project that is still calling me, and more annoyance abounded today. I've been kinda meditating on the annoyance tonight, because I can sense I'm reaching the point where I am likely to say something I don't want to say. I am beset by frustration, as you can imagine.

Basically, I am washing my hands of the whole thing. I have collected numbers, and I am noting what we have done (i.e., combined numbers that the project officer SPECIFICALLY told me to separate), and tomorrow I am going to pass it along to my boss's boss. I am also going to note that I have included all of the information I have, and that any subsequent questions should go to AP, because I will not know the answers. I am going to take as many deep breaths as I can remember to take along the way. I don't want to get into a war, and I can sense myself heading in that direction, because I am pissed off at everyone at this point.

As you can imagine, I am looking forward to the weekend. I'm hoping that the slight crampiness and spotting is a result of yesterday's sharp-stick poking, not an impending period, but we all know how cooperative my body is likely to be on this front, and there's nothing to prevent it being both things going on. Let me add to my frustrations that I have gotten damned little exercise, have practiced no yoga, and have been eating like shit. I have a zen shiatsu massage scheduled for tomorrow evening, and I am considering fasting tomorrow (except for tea and honey, maybe with some lemon thrown in if I can get my ass to buy a lemon on the way to work) in an effort to detox from the sugar and salt I have been imbibing. (Seriously: Free Dinner last night was the world's saltiest muffaletta, and dinner Sunday, hence leftovers Monday & Tuesday, included venison gyros meat, which was a whole other world of salty, plus there's the chocolate chip cookie experiment. Then, I seemed to think it was a good idea to have two of Brazen Tart's cupcakes for dinner tonight. Oh, and a can of club soda.)

Ah, well; nothing like self-imposed crap on top of other-imposed crap, not to mention assorted bodily pokings and proddings. At least I'll be able to partially wash my hands of the proposal by the end of tomorrow, though I'm sure it'll come back and bite me some more. I really am looking forward to the massage tomorrow night as a way to clear out the residual bits from all of that.

Count This

Let's just say that the Procedure has been, in some ways, the least problematic aspect of this week, not least because they ended up giving me enough drugs that i was completely out.

Workworld has been an adventure. I'm trying to report our services for a particular funding stream. You'd think that would be relatively uncomplicated, but you would be oh-so-wrong. Friday was an exercise in frustration and annoyance. Part of this is complicated by AP, who is dysfunctional in so very many ways, not the least of which is that i do not trust a single number that she has given to me. But I do not want to pick a fight with her, at least not for the sake of picking a fight--I want to know what we did, and, as in high school geometry class, i expect her to be able to show her work, i.e., demonstrate or document where the numbers are from.

My boss isn't very good at managing all of this, either. I do like him, tremendously, and I know he wants me to do the things I'm doing, but sending me to people in sequence is resulting in wildly conflicting answers and basically making me run in circles. We are having a come to jesus talk on Monday.

After this is over, i am getting all of our contracts--a very small number--and putting together a list of what we have committed to do. Then I am going to gather every last person in the organization who has anything to do with it, all in one room at the same damned time, and we are going to hammer out agreements about what, exactly, we are going to be measuring and counting, and how, exactly, we are going to do that. Then I am going to put together a process, with whatever tools are necessary, to do that. And we are going to put things in place so I don't have to go through this fucking shit every last fucking time I have to put together a fucking report or a fucking proposal.

Not that it has been frustrating or anything. Upside, though, is that it has enabled me to make connections with clinical and other people who might otherwise not know or care who the fuck I am. And it has already become clear to me that part of my message must be that I am not interested in fingerpointing and blaming. Here is what we need to do; let's reach a consensus on how to do that. Yes, I know there have been issues and problems, and it may occasionally be useful to recount aspects of that so we can learn from that, but castigating others will not advance the agenda, so let's not do that.

I'm actually kind of looking forward to that, provided I get the chance to do it.

Meanwhile, this weekend needs to be edit-y, and already has been today. I got up early this morning and cranked away with F1 qualifying on in the background. I'm thinking that I should maybe say no to the occasional editing job, but it's really difficult to do that, especially given the relative lucrativity of the jobs I've been getting, and especially given that Friend will be gone a lot on the weekends in the fall. It also seems--and I could be wrong about this one--that at least a couple of people save the big, gooey, complicated jobs for me, which makes the actual work more interesting (and, occasionally, more horrifyingly bad) and more lucrative per job, even though the rates for the work (by the hour or the page) are the same. (That is, it feels more worthwhile to do one big job for two grand or more than to do eight or ten smaller jobs for the same amount of money, even if the actual time spent is exactly the same. Yes, I know it doesn't make sense, but there it is.) The truly exciting thing is that as soon as the checks for this work come in, I will be able to pay off the student loan--probably in August. The only things that will remain from my sojourn into the bakery world will be a certificate (hey, it was good enough for the Scarecrow, it's good enough for me), the improved skills, the still-aching SI joint, and friends with Mad Pastry Skillz.

Not exactly what I had in mind, but, as noted previously, I'm getting used to that in this life. There's a scene in the first part of LOTR where the hobbits are trying to go through a forest that is basically malevolent; they want to go in one direction, but the forest keeps forcing them in a different direction. I get the same feeling sometimes, although it doesn't feel malevolent. And, for better or worse, I'm kind of getting used to it. More important, I end up getting to do useful work, no matter what happens, plus I meet interesting people and always collect a couple of good friends, so it's difficult to do anything other than roll my eyes and say, "Okay, OKAY! I get it!" even if I'm not entirely sure what "it" is, and even though I most certainly do not believe in deities, fates, whatever.