Well, yes, and so.
I got back yesterday from a whirlwind vacation: I left here a week ago Thursday, and, in the intervening days, managed to spend two in Cincinnati, four with my parents (more or less), an afternoon of that time in Philadelphia, seeing various historical-type stuff, and a night in Cleveland. The things seen include:
*downtown Cincinnati (the riverfront, where the ballpark is, though we didn’t actually see a game)
*my older nephew’s first football game of the year (he played every down except the kickoffs and kickoff returns)
*the Martin Guitar factory
*in Philadelphia, Independence Hall, the Liberty Bell, the Maxfield Parrish mural (done by the Tiffany studios) in the lobby of the Curtis Building, Elfreth’s Alley, Jim’s Steaks, Famous 4th Street Deli, and a cool little bar/restaurant in Northern Liberties
*the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, including, most importantly, the Springsteen exhibit
the Great Lakes Brewing Company’s brewpub, and
*a bit of Oberlin (yes, my alma mater)
All in all, quite fun.
My parents are doing pretty well--they’re about to try another round of some other kind of chemo on my dad, but he’s nearly tapered off the steroids. One of the more amusing moments was watching my mom decide that, oh, okay, she’ll go ahead a buy a new iMac (she has never used the Apple OS before). Her 4-year-old (windowsbox) computer had apparently gotten appallingly slow and creaky, and various people over the years have recommended Macs, but she was on a cruise once with a bunch of Apple devotees, and she vowed never to join the club.
So we all wandered over to the Apple store on Monday, and she poked around, and she looked, and we talked to the salesguy, and she finally said, okay, and walked out with a new computer. She set it up, with some direction and guidance, but one of the beauties of the OS really is its simplicity; after being shown a few things--and saying, oh, I’ll never be able to do this--she promptly started messing around with it. By the time we left three days later, she had figured out how to use three additional applications on her own. She also signed up for a year’s worth of one-on-one training, plus they’ll transfer all her files from the windowsbox, all for about a hundred dollars. I think that will be well worth the money.
But it’s nice to be back home today, even if apparently things at work were mostly big piles of shit hitting industrial-strength fans. (My boss actually emailed and called me, in a panic, and with many apologies about interrupting my vacation; Boss is generally quite good about respecting that boundary, so you know it had to be serious.) I went to a condo board meeting this morning, mostly to educate myself; I started moving winter and summer clothes between the closets; I think I attached my DVD recorder properly; and I caught up with some financial stuff, but otherwise I’ve been sitting around doing a lot of nothing. Which feels mighty fine, I might add. There are a handful of things I probably should do, and I may get to a few of them, but it feels good to just sit here.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
Road Trip
It's possible I could be more useless tonight, but I'm not entirely sure how.
I'm starting to get my crap together for the Large Trip to the Coast of My Birth, With Multiple Stops in the State Where I Colleged. Friend and I are grabbing his sister and heading to, in order, his brother's place, a rendezvous in Pennsylvania somewhere, at a location yet to be determined, my parents' house, a possible day of touring Philadelphia historical bits, and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, because they have a Bruce exhibit I've been wanting to see, plus it's the R&R HoF and probably has some Cool Stuff. I would like to stop in the actual town where I went to college, but I think that's unlikely to be part of the adventure. All in all, though, it will involve about eight days of stuff, at least four of which will include driving.
I've been monumentally tired lately, and I've been trying to piece together why that is so, because it's not lack of sleep--I'm not sleepy, exactly. In discussion with Friend last night I decided that it's partly, or mostly, stress from work. (And not working out probably doesn't help, either.) It's not that I hate my job--actually, despite the multitude of frustrations lately, I actually like a lot of what I do, on some level. Yeah, it's boring and tedious in a lot of ways, and it doesn't engage my intellect, for lack of a better word, in any way whatsoever, but it's Good Work, and for a good cause, so if I don't get to use my smarts in ways that make me happy & fulfilled, well, at least other people get to benefit from it. There is some measure of satisfaction from that, and I make a living that allows me to do stuff and enjoy myself and even save some money, so it's pretty damn good, as these things go.
The thing that's causing me stress is that I don't have any help. There isn't another person in the whole organization who knows as much about what I'm doing as I do, and, in particular, doesn't know nearly as much about the budget as I do, and that makes me nervous. Our downtown financial folks don't concern themselves with the actual program activities or rules governing same, and they don't make any effort to learn what we're doing, and they don't particularly provide us with tools that would help; they mostly add layers of hoops through which we must jump, and communicate poorly about same, which just adds to the strain. Sometimes, when I'm really lucky, they lecture me on what fabulous tools they're providing and how we should really use them. But really, they don't know our programs nearly as well as they ought. (For example, today our controller called and asked MY opinion about a thing that the head of the whole organization wants to do that would affect one of the satellite programs in our corner of the organization, and I got the strong sense that my feedback was what made the decision, even if it doesn't go out with my name on it, plus I sent the controller to an additional person whom I knew would have a relevant opinion about another aspect of the whole thing.)
On top of that, there really isn't anyone else who knows our data needs and reporting requirements. (One of our funding agencies requires 40 reports a year. Yes. Forty. And that's just one bit of the reporting.) Some of the stuff I pull myself. Some of it I get from our IS person (who's a level above me on the food chain, so she isn't exactly support for me, though she does, in fact, do her best to get me what I need). It gets reported in multiple formats, and multiple arenas, and to multiple internal and external ends, and very little of it gets reviewed or even examined by anyone else before I submit it, and mostly people don't even know about it.
Yes, I know I need to write all of this down somewhere. I'll do that as soon as I put out whatever's on fire right now, and I can think of a half a dozen things that are smoldering or actually in flames.
My boss and I both recognize the need for some infrastructure, and I have occasionally given some thought to what it would resemble, were any of it to come my way. At the same time, I know our programs in the detail of the matter--i.e., both in terms of budgets and in terms of performance--better than anyone, and I know the huge unmet need, so I have a very difficult time taking money that could be used to provide direct services to people who's lives are much, much, much worse than my Stress At Work problems. On the other hand, I know that infrastructure is vital, so I'm willing to make an argument to hire someone when we have the dollars to do so and I have enough work to keep that person busy. It's a balancing act.
Add to it that I absolutely do not want to cheap out on the eventual position: either hire someone good, at a reasonable salary, or don't, but don't hire a warm body at 2/3 the necessary salary, and expect that person to do what I know needs to happen. To me, that's a complete waste of money, and, likely, a waste of my time.
So, really, it's the sole-responsibility part that is making me a bit anxious. I would like to have someone around whom I can trust and past whom I can run things, with some expectation that s/he will actually be able to look at what I've done and find my mistakes. Right now, I work alone, and the things I send downtown get put through some weird translation device that fucks up everything and puts it into a spreadsheet in ways that make it impossible to actually follow, but no one actually reviews things in a way that is likely to find any relevant mistakes. Irrelevant bullshit, yes, but not actual mistakes. Not the desired result.
Anyway.
All that aside, I'm still taking time off. As of February of this year I get three weeks of vacation a year, so even with this trip I'm going to have more than two weeks of vacation days left. And I'm taking this time. I want to see my dad near his 80th birthday, while all of his organs are still on the inside of him. I want to see my nephews, if I can. I want Friend to see a part of the country that is beautiful to me, but that he has never seen. (I find that I don't much care about seeing my brother, which kind of bothers me to realize but I don't know that I want to, or can, do anything about it. But that's another whole story.) And you know what? I'm not indispensible; the place will manage without me for another week. The other thing that helps is that I have worked hard to develop relationships with our various funding agencies and project officers, so if something does blow up, they'll be on our side. Who knew that someone as fundamentally grouchy as I am would have the patience for that . . .
I'm starting to get my crap together for the Large Trip to the Coast of My Birth, With Multiple Stops in the State Where I Colleged. Friend and I are grabbing his sister and heading to, in order, his brother's place, a rendezvous in Pennsylvania somewhere, at a location yet to be determined, my parents' house, a possible day of touring Philadelphia historical bits, and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, because they have a Bruce exhibit I've been wanting to see, plus it's the R&R HoF and probably has some Cool Stuff. I would like to stop in the actual town where I went to college, but I think that's unlikely to be part of the adventure. All in all, though, it will involve about eight days of stuff, at least four of which will include driving.
I've been monumentally tired lately, and I've been trying to piece together why that is so, because it's not lack of sleep--I'm not sleepy, exactly. In discussion with Friend last night I decided that it's partly, or mostly, stress from work. (And not working out probably doesn't help, either.) It's not that I hate my job--actually, despite the multitude of frustrations lately, I actually like a lot of what I do, on some level. Yeah, it's boring and tedious in a lot of ways, and it doesn't engage my intellect, for lack of a better word, in any way whatsoever, but it's Good Work, and for a good cause, so if I don't get to use my smarts in ways that make me happy & fulfilled, well, at least other people get to benefit from it. There is some measure of satisfaction from that, and I make a living that allows me to do stuff and enjoy myself and even save some money, so it's pretty damn good, as these things go.
The thing that's causing me stress is that I don't have any help. There isn't another person in the whole organization who knows as much about what I'm doing as I do, and, in particular, doesn't know nearly as much about the budget as I do, and that makes me nervous. Our downtown financial folks don't concern themselves with the actual program activities or rules governing same, and they don't make any effort to learn what we're doing, and they don't particularly provide us with tools that would help; they mostly add layers of hoops through which we must jump, and communicate poorly about same, which just adds to the strain. Sometimes, when I'm really lucky, they lecture me on what fabulous tools they're providing and how we should really use them. But really, they don't know our programs nearly as well as they ought. (For example, today our controller called and asked MY opinion about a thing that the head of the whole organization wants to do that would affect one of the satellite programs in our corner of the organization, and I got the strong sense that my feedback was what made the decision, even if it doesn't go out with my name on it, plus I sent the controller to an additional person whom I knew would have a relevant opinion about another aspect of the whole thing.)
On top of that, there really isn't anyone else who knows our data needs and reporting requirements. (One of our funding agencies requires 40 reports a year. Yes. Forty. And that's just one bit of the reporting.) Some of the stuff I pull myself. Some of it I get from our IS person (who's a level above me on the food chain, so she isn't exactly support for me, though she does, in fact, do her best to get me what I need). It gets reported in multiple formats, and multiple arenas, and to multiple internal and external ends, and very little of it gets reviewed or even examined by anyone else before I submit it, and mostly people don't even know about it.
Yes, I know I need to write all of this down somewhere. I'll do that as soon as I put out whatever's on fire right now, and I can think of a half a dozen things that are smoldering or actually in flames.
My boss and I both recognize the need for some infrastructure, and I have occasionally given some thought to what it would resemble, were any of it to come my way. At the same time, I know our programs in the detail of the matter--i.e., both in terms of budgets and in terms of performance--better than anyone, and I know the huge unmet need, so I have a very difficult time taking money that could be used to provide direct services to people who's lives are much, much, much worse than my Stress At Work problems. On the other hand, I know that infrastructure is vital, so I'm willing to make an argument to hire someone when we have the dollars to do so and I have enough work to keep that person busy. It's a balancing act.
Add to it that I absolutely do not want to cheap out on the eventual position: either hire someone good, at a reasonable salary, or don't, but don't hire a warm body at 2/3 the necessary salary, and expect that person to do what I know needs to happen. To me, that's a complete waste of money, and, likely, a waste of my time.
So, really, it's the sole-responsibility part that is making me a bit anxious. I would like to have someone around whom I can trust and past whom I can run things, with some expectation that s/he will actually be able to look at what I've done and find my mistakes. Right now, I work alone, and the things I send downtown get put through some weird translation device that fucks up everything and puts it into a spreadsheet in ways that make it impossible to actually follow, but no one actually reviews things in a way that is likely to find any relevant mistakes. Irrelevant bullshit, yes, but not actual mistakes. Not the desired result.
Anyway.
All that aside, I'm still taking time off. As of February of this year I get three weeks of vacation a year, so even with this trip I'm going to have more than two weeks of vacation days left. And I'm taking this time. I want to see my dad near his 80th birthday, while all of his organs are still on the inside of him. I want to see my nephews, if I can. I want Friend to see a part of the country that is beautiful to me, but that he has never seen. (I find that I don't much care about seeing my brother, which kind of bothers me to realize but I don't know that I want to, or can, do anything about it. But that's another whole story.) And you know what? I'm not indispensible; the place will manage without me for another week. The other thing that helps is that I have worked hard to develop relationships with our various funding agencies and project officers, so if something does blow up, they'll be on our side. Who knew that someone as fundamentally grouchy as I am would have the patience for that . . .
Saturday, August 21, 2010
And then . . .
It was, in fact, very nice. It was also funny, because the guy who waited on me earlier in the week--and whom I'd told that I'd gotten married there (but was now divorced)--saw me and came over and said, glad you made it back again, and I said, and here's my ex-husband. He was a little taken aback, I think, but amused as well. It was also bittersweet, of course, but it is what it is. We know each other's lives so well, and much of the fundamental liking for each other remains, so we can have a good time talking to each other. Apparently I don't know how to be divorced any better than I knew how to be married, given that most people don't seem to manage amicability. Then again, we've both worked hard at that, and struggled through a lot of difficulty, so it's not as though it happened by magic, and it certainly hasn't happened easily. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me, if I use the generally available narratives about relationships and divorce and marriage and whatever, but if I throw them out and accept it, it works a lot better.
Meanwhile, my dad is going through some changes of his own. The bladder cancer keeps reappearing, and he's reaching the point where they're going to want to take it out completely and replace it w/ a bag. At first, he was absolutely opposed to that idea, but my mom was telling me today about a conversation she overheard. Some friends of theirs were visiting, and the other guy also has bladder cancer--more advanced than my dad's so they're pretty much stuck with removal--and my dad was telling this guy that it would be okay, that you have to do what you have to do, that he golfed with someone in Florida (my parents used to spend a few months each winter down there) who had a bag and it was okay, and so on. My mom was kind of (okay, totally) eavesdropping, because this was a rather significant change of position on my dad's part.
My dad's a pretty sensible person, and I think he's capable of evaluating quality of life and figuring out what it's worth to him. The thing for him is that he'll be 80 in a couple of weeks, so his balancing act has different constraints than someone who's younger, for example (or older, for that matter). As my mom and I were discussing, chances are pretty good that he'd have a pretty good quality of life with a bag--he'd still be able to do all of the things he likes to do, he'd get to hang with his grandkids a while longer, so . . . there it is. I suspect he'll go for it.
Of course I'd like to have him around awhile longer--I like my dad! But I also know he'd rather die sooner and happier than later and more incapacitated, either mentally (especially mentally) or physically. One of the great advantages to having spent so much time working on my relationship with my parents is that I don't feel like we've left a lot unsaid. We don't have unhealed wounds in our relationships. To be fair, we haven't had many to begin with; my mom and I have always had the most difficult relationship--remember when she didn't speak to me for more than a year?--but even that is bounded by the knowledge both of us have of the love we have for each other. The other contributing factor is that we talk nearly weekly, and have done so for the 24 years I've lived out here. Some weeks there's not a lot of conversation, other times we talk for awhile, but it means we have a dense fabric of interaction to sustain us.
The difficult part of our relationship is, and always has been, that I haven't lived my life in a way that she completely understands. It is so different from what she would choose for me, and, in some ways (more ways than she knows, actually), so different from what she considers a proper life, that she can't always get her head around it. I've known this for 40 years, and, when I'm not having difficulties of my own, I can deal with it. We have problems when my life is going to shit in some way--she tries to help, but her suggestions are so contrary to what makes sense to me, for me, that I get defensive and upset and she gets more entrenched. In my heart of hearts, I know that she just wants me to be happy--what all parents want for their children--but she cannot for the life of her figure out how I could be happy doing the things I do.
The other thing for her is that, all things considered, the patriarchy has been very good to her. She married someone she loved, they've been happily married for 54 years, he's more of a feminist than she is in some ways. This makes it difficult for her to identify and recognize the subtle (or not-so-subtle) incursions of patriarchy into people's lives. She played by the rules and she hit the jackpot, so she sees a causal conneciton there, where I would argue those things are really not causally connected at all.
No matter. At heart, I know she loves me, despite the many challenges I pose for her, and that's the important part.
Meanwhile, my dad is going through some changes of his own. The bladder cancer keeps reappearing, and he's reaching the point where they're going to want to take it out completely and replace it w/ a bag. At first, he was absolutely opposed to that idea, but my mom was telling me today about a conversation she overheard. Some friends of theirs were visiting, and the other guy also has bladder cancer--more advanced than my dad's so they're pretty much stuck with removal--and my dad was telling this guy that it would be okay, that you have to do what you have to do, that he golfed with someone in Florida (my parents used to spend a few months each winter down there) who had a bag and it was okay, and so on. My mom was kind of (okay, totally) eavesdropping, because this was a rather significant change of position on my dad's part.
My dad's a pretty sensible person, and I think he's capable of evaluating quality of life and figuring out what it's worth to him. The thing for him is that he'll be 80 in a couple of weeks, so his balancing act has different constraints than someone who's younger, for example (or older, for that matter). As my mom and I were discussing, chances are pretty good that he'd have a pretty good quality of life with a bag--he'd still be able to do all of the things he likes to do, he'd get to hang with his grandkids a while longer, so . . . there it is. I suspect he'll go for it.
Of course I'd like to have him around awhile longer--I like my dad! But I also know he'd rather die sooner and happier than later and more incapacitated, either mentally (especially mentally) or physically. One of the great advantages to having spent so much time working on my relationship with my parents is that I don't feel like we've left a lot unsaid. We don't have unhealed wounds in our relationships. To be fair, we haven't had many to begin with; my mom and I have always had the most difficult relationship--remember when she didn't speak to me for more than a year?--but even that is bounded by the knowledge both of us have of the love we have for each other. The other contributing factor is that we talk nearly weekly, and have done so for the 24 years I've lived out here. Some weeks there's not a lot of conversation, other times we talk for awhile, but it means we have a dense fabric of interaction to sustain us.
The difficult part of our relationship is, and always has been, that I haven't lived my life in a way that she completely understands. It is so different from what she would choose for me, and, in some ways (more ways than she knows, actually), so different from what she considers a proper life, that she can't always get her head around it. I've known this for 40 years, and, when I'm not having difficulties of my own, I can deal with it. We have problems when my life is going to shit in some way--she tries to help, but her suggestions are so contrary to what makes sense to me, for me, that I get defensive and upset and she gets more entrenched. In my heart of hearts, I know that she just wants me to be happy--what all parents want for their children--but she cannot for the life of her figure out how I could be happy doing the things I do.
The other thing for her is that, all things considered, the patriarchy has been very good to her. She married someone she loved, they've been happily married for 54 years, he's more of a feminist than she is in some ways. This makes it difficult for her to identify and recognize the subtle (or not-so-subtle) incursions of patriarchy into people's lives. She played by the rules and she hit the jackpot, so she sees a causal conneciton there, where I would argue those things are really not causally connected at all.
No matter. At heart, I know she loves me, despite the many challenges I pose for her, and that's the important part.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Say What?
i cannot seem to finish a post and then actually post it. I have several that were probably minutes away from readiness and . . . I just didn't.
Because whatever.
It's been a full couple of weeks. Lots of beer last weekend, and tasty food, and lounging about. Four days of work and annoyance, and now I'm off again--until next Wednesday, actually. The original plan had been because Friend and I were considering another trip this weekend, but then he had to tuckpoint his house and I have a special assessment and we decided to stay the hell home. Even if we go out and do some stuff, it'll be cheaper than going away. I ended up with several appointments to keep, including my gynecologist (I have to see him every six months, and I'm already two months overdue); I called today, expecting the usual two-month wait, and they have a cancellation for Monday. Oh well; not exactly what I want to do on my day off, but whatevs. I can still get up in the morning and make tea and sit around for awhile.
I've also started going back to the acupuncturist, because the SI pain is back, along with heel pain that I think is possibly completely unrelated. It's quite tedious; some days or activities that you think would stress it out and make it hurt have no effect at all, and other days, blammo. So I'm going back to the needles, and I'm trying to go back to the yoga mat; that project is less successful, for reasons that aren't entirely clear to me. I like the practice, I really liked it when I practiced regularly, I know that I feel better in so many ways when I do it, but actually getting my ass on the mat? Not so much. At least I've been better about exercising--including when we were out of town last week! I looked it up and saw that the hotel had workout facilities, so I threw some gear in the vehicle, and I actually worked out Friday before we went out to dinner and Saturday morning, so I felt very virtuous. Didn't stop me from ordering dessert at breakfast on Sunday, however.
Tomorrow is going to be another chapter in the weirdness that is my life. The restaurant where Chuck and I got married is closing next week. They're going to reconceptualize it (cue the eyeroll) so it's for hipper people than I am. Whatever, the point is that I love the place; it was one of my favorites before I met him, and we enjoyed it together, and I've made it a point to kind of "reclaim" it since we split up, because I liked it so much. (I went by myself on Tuesday night, and had a fabulous meal and even talked to the chef.)
Anyway, I told Chuck about the closing, and he asked if I wanted to have dinner with him there tomorrow. Yes, I know it's a bit odd, at least for most people, but it feels like the right thing to do in many ways. I realize I'm taking a chance that it's going to upset him or freak him out, and I will check in to make sure before we meet, but it feels like a way to honor the parts of our relationship that were good. I've begun to truly believe that we had the best possible relationship we were capable of having (and still are, for that matter). I have never doubted his feelings for me, or mine for him, for that matter, but so many things, including our own habits and behaviors and wishes, made it nearly impossible for it to work as a marriage.
I realize that's a mighty convenient conclusion, but I have been thinking about this for nearly five years, in one way or another--more, in some ways--and I think the odds were really against us. The fact that we managed to create as much good stuff as we did is a testament to both of us, I think. And, here's another oddity for you, sometimes what I would like most is to find a good companion for him. He's a good person, in so many ways, and I'd like him to have that, even as I recognize that I'm not that person.
One of my biggest realizations, when we had been separate for awhile but were still waffling around, was that getting back together would be poisonous for both of us. I know myself, and I know that I would never have really trusted him; I would have wanted to look over his shoulder all the time. And the thing is, if he changed the behaviors related to my lack of trust, then he would deserve to be trusted. There is absolutely no way for that to work out well. I don't say this to point fingers at either of us, but, as I hope I'm making clear, it's a combination of the behaviors of both of us. Perhaps you could say that, after a certain amount of time, or some kind of evidence, I should have been able to let go of my own needs for Proof of Trustworthiness; I don't know. My point is that it's an interaction, and both people contribute to it, and not necessarily in ways that are good for either of them.
And here's the other thing: people get into patterns of behavior. As they say in the substance abuse treatment world, practice doesn't make perfect, practice makes permanent. The same is true of friends, lovers, whomever; we have habits in our relationships with people, and we fall into them, and that isn't all bad. It's the foundation of intimacy, probably. My point is, even if Chuck and I had the best intentions, even if we could have gotten past the trust issues, our own habits may well have led us back down the paths that would be harmful to us, individually and together. I don't know if that part is true, of course, but I also believe that it would have been much more corrosive, to both of us, than the first time around, if that happened.
So, yeah, dinner with my ex at the place where we got married.
Because whatever.
It's been a full couple of weeks. Lots of beer last weekend, and tasty food, and lounging about. Four days of work and annoyance, and now I'm off again--until next Wednesday, actually. The original plan had been because Friend and I were considering another trip this weekend, but then he had to tuckpoint his house and I have a special assessment and we decided to stay the hell home. Even if we go out and do some stuff, it'll be cheaper than going away. I ended up with several appointments to keep, including my gynecologist (I have to see him every six months, and I'm already two months overdue); I called today, expecting the usual two-month wait, and they have a cancellation for Monday. Oh well; not exactly what I want to do on my day off, but whatevs. I can still get up in the morning and make tea and sit around for awhile.
I've also started going back to the acupuncturist, because the SI pain is back, along with heel pain that I think is possibly completely unrelated. It's quite tedious; some days or activities that you think would stress it out and make it hurt have no effect at all, and other days, blammo. So I'm going back to the needles, and I'm trying to go back to the yoga mat; that project is less successful, for reasons that aren't entirely clear to me. I like the practice, I really liked it when I practiced regularly, I know that I feel better in so many ways when I do it, but actually getting my ass on the mat? Not so much. At least I've been better about exercising--including when we were out of town last week! I looked it up and saw that the hotel had workout facilities, so I threw some gear in the vehicle, and I actually worked out Friday before we went out to dinner and Saturday morning, so I felt very virtuous. Didn't stop me from ordering dessert at breakfast on Sunday, however.
Tomorrow is going to be another chapter in the weirdness that is my life. The restaurant where Chuck and I got married is closing next week. They're going to reconceptualize it (cue the eyeroll) so it's for hipper people than I am. Whatever, the point is that I love the place; it was one of my favorites before I met him, and we enjoyed it together, and I've made it a point to kind of "reclaim" it since we split up, because I liked it so much. (I went by myself on Tuesday night, and had a fabulous meal and even talked to the chef.)
Anyway, I told Chuck about the closing, and he asked if I wanted to have dinner with him there tomorrow. Yes, I know it's a bit odd, at least for most people, but it feels like the right thing to do in many ways. I realize I'm taking a chance that it's going to upset him or freak him out, and I will check in to make sure before we meet, but it feels like a way to honor the parts of our relationship that were good. I've begun to truly believe that we had the best possible relationship we were capable of having (and still are, for that matter). I have never doubted his feelings for me, or mine for him, for that matter, but so many things, including our own habits and behaviors and wishes, made it nearly impossible for it to work as a marriage.
I realize that's a mighty convenient conclusion, but I have been thinking about this for nearly five years, in one way or another--more, in some ways--and I think the odds were really against us. The fact that we managed to create as much good stuff as we did is a testament to both of us, I think. And, here's another oddity for you, sometimes what I would like most is to find a good companion for him. He's a good person, in so many ways, and I'd like him to have that, even as I recognize that I'm not that person.
One of my biggest realizations, when we had been separate for awhile but were still waffling around, was that getting back together would be poisonous for both of us. I know myself, and I know that I would never have really trusted him; I would have wanted to look over his shoulder all the time. And the thing is, if he changed the behaviors related to my lack of trust, then he would deserve to be trusted. There is absolutely no way for that to work out well. I don't say this to point fingers at either of us, but, as I hope I'm making clear, it's a combination of the behaviors of both of us. Perhaps you could say that, after a certain amount of time, or some kind of evidence, I should have been able to let go of my own needs for Proof of Trustworthiness; I don't know. My point is that it's an interaction, and both people contribute to it, and not necessarily in ways that are good for either of them.
And here's the other thing: people get into patterns of behavior. As they say in the substance abuse treatment world, practice doesn't make perfect, practice makes permanent. The same is true of friends, lovers, whomever; we have habits in our relationships with people, and we fall into them, and that isn't all bad. It's the foundation of intimacy, probably. My point is, even if Chuck and I had the best intentions, even if we could have gotten past the trust issues, our own habits may well have led us back down the paths that would be harmful to us, individually and together. I don't know if that part is true, of course, but I also believe that it would have been much more corrosive, to both of us, than the first time around, if that happened.
So, yeah, dinner with my ex at the place where we got married.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Please Read, Damnit!
There's a guy across the street who likes to play the piano, with his windows open; sometimes he sings, too. And he's absolutely wretched. No; really; he's just terrible. There are some nights when, after he's been flailing away for a couple of hours, I just want to go over and shut the piano on his hands. Or at least close his fucking windows. Dude, have whatever hobby you please; I don't care. But don't subject the rest of us to it.
Meanwhile, as the dearth of posting might suggest, I'm a bit fried. Work has been extremely stressful lately, though of course I can't help but be grateful I have a job. Some of it is just me being whiny, but a big chunk of it is that the people who are supposed to be assisting us . . . aren't. Two weeks ago, one of the other department heads and I sorted through a bill for a particular service. It's a quarterly bill, and s/he and I each had our own way of budgeting for it--which is fine, as the cost is split between our departments, and it's spread across our department in a way, and using a methodology, that I developed. So I created a little spreadsheet, passed it along to downtown, and wrote a cover email that said, you'll be getting this purchase order, here's how the costs are being allocated, please note that it's by dollar amount not by percentage.
Fine. Except the Very. First. Response. from the person who's supposed to assist us, says, "Okay, I'll adjust the percentages." Did you READ the fucking email? Apparently not. There were then a half a dozen clarifying emails. Okay, finally everyone signs off on it, the invoice and purchase order go downtown for payment.
A week later, it comes back to me. Why? Well, the other department head budgeted the dollars for this cost under the pencils account number, while I budgeted the dollars under the erasers account number. No matter; we each have our own funds. Or, rather, it shouldn't matter, but someone downtown apparently couldn't follow along, and said, oh, the other department doesn't have the dollars in his/her budget for this, because the person downtown was looking in the erasers line in both departments, despite having been instructed otherwise. So there is yet another round of clarifying.
And today, one of my fellow directors informs me that the grand plan of downtown is to have all bills sent to them, "because you already budgeted it, and you have to follow your budget." I about blew a gasket. They fuck up everything they touch, but they want to take the bill-paying out of our hands? It will be a fucking nightmare if that comes to pass. They simply do not realize that we must obey our funding agencies: as my old boss used to say, in this world you have to follow the golden rule: he who has the gold makes the rules.
More seriously, there simply isn't any way to align three major contracts (each of which has a different contract year), and three more minor contracts--none of which has the same contract year, and none of which has the same year as our fiscal year--so everything lines up perfectly. It cannot be done, at least not with human beings involved in the system.
On a similar note, in the middle of yet another dispute on Thursday, our controller says, surely not very much has changed in the month since the fiscal year budget went into effect. Well, actually, I pointed out, it has been THREE months since the FY budget was submitted, and since then there have been several changes, and here, again, is what they are. In other words, things change, and part of my job is to manage the contracts in ways that make sure we spend the dollars and spend them appropriately, and instead of assisting in that project, the people downtown create their own agendas that have nothing to do with this and don't bother to learn what the grants are. I do all of the budgeting and make the budgets available to them, but it's like reading poetry to fish.
One of the major sticking points is that the person who is supposed to be helping us most closely really isn't up to the job. S/he was hired to do Job A, and the (now-not-so-)new boss thinks s/he should be able to do Job A+++. And s/he simply cannot do that job. Thus, we are not getting the service we need, and we have someone who is actually getting in our way--this is the person who wanted to change the percentages, after being explicitly and specifically told we'd be using dollars rather than percentages. All of which adds yet another layer of crap on top of the processes. Everything thinks helperperson needs to go, and apparently s/he is on some kind of performance evaluation, but meanwhile, we're getting crap. And also also, helperperson dumps stuff in my lap without actually doing his/her homework first, in a frantic effort to show that s/he is doing the work and is getting stuff off his/her desk.
Can you tell it's getting on my last fucking frayed nerve?
Anyway.
This weekend will feature a lot of beer-drinking, preceded by maragaritas and great tex-mex food the night before, and succeeded by french bistro food for breakfast, and then possibly a cat will make its way back into Friend's house. We contemplated going away next weekend, too, and I took off several days to facilitate that, but Friend just had to dump a whole bunch of money into his (17-year-old) vehicle, which has nearly 260,000 miles on it. And he still needs new tires for it. But after that, he mostly needs to get through this next winter with it, and start shopping for a replacement in earnest. In any case, the other trip next weekend now looks less likely, which is okay with me, too--not least because I just got a substantial special assessment.
I apologize that my first post in awhile features a lot of complaints--back to food blogging soon, I promise! And furniture blogging, too, when my shelves get here.
Meanwhile, as the dearth of posting might suggest, I'm a bit fried. Work has been extremely stressful lately, though of course I can't help but be grateful I have a job. Some of it is just me being whiny, but a big chunk of it is that the people who are supposed to be assisting us . . . aren't. Two weeks ago, one of the other department heads and I sorted through a bill for a particular service. It's a quarterly bill, and s/he and I each had our own way of budgeting for it--which is fine, as the cost is split between our departments, and it's spread across our department in a way, and using a methodology, that I developed. So I created a little spreadsheet, passed it along to downtown, and wrote a cover email that said, you'll be getting this purchase order, here's how the costs are being allocated, please note that it's by dollar amount not by percentage.
Fine. Except the Very. First. Response. from the person who's supposed to assist us, says, "Okay, I'll adjust the percentages." Did you READ the fucking email? Apparently not. There were then a half a dozen clarifying emails. Okay, finally everyone signs off on it, the invoice and purchase order go downtown for payment.
A week later, it comes back to me. Why? Well, the other department head budgeted the dollars for this cost under the pencils account number, while I budgeted the dollars under the erasers account number. No matter; we each have our own funds. Or, rather, it shouldn't matter, but someone downtown apparently couldn't follow along, and said, oh, the other department doesn't have the dollars in his/her budget for this, because the person downtown was looking in the erasers line in both departments, despite having been instructed otherwise. So there is yet another round of clarifying.
And today, one of my fellow directors informs me that the grand plan of downtown is to have all bills sent to them, "because you already budgeted it, and you have to follow your budget." I about blew a gasket. They fuck up everything they touch, but they want to take the bill-paying out of our hands? It will be a fucking nightmare if that comes to pass. They simply do not realize that we must obey our funding agencies: as my old boss used to say, in this world you have to follow the golden rule: he who has the gold makes the rules.
More seriously, there simply isn't any way to align three major contracts (each of which has a different contract year), and three more minor contracts--none of which has the same contract year, and none of which has the same year as our fiscal year--so everything lines up perfectly. It cannot be done, at least not with human beings involved in the system.
On a similar note, in the middle of yet another dispute on Thursday, our controller says, surely not very much has changed in the month since the fiscal year budget went into effect. Well, actually, I pointed out, it has been THREE months since the FY budget was submitted, and since then there have been several changes, and here, again, is what they are. In other words, things change, and part of my job is to manage the contracts in ways that make sure we spend the dollars and spend them appropriately, and instead of assisting in that project, the people downtown create their own agendas that have nothing to do with this and don't bother to learn what the grants are. I do all of the budgeting and make the budgets available to them, but it's like reading poetry to fish.
One of the major sticking points is that the person who is supposed to be helping us most closely really isn't up to the job. S/he was hired to do Job A, and the (now-not-so-)new boss thinks s/he should be able to do Job A+++. And s/he simply cannot do that job. Thus, we are not getting the service we need, and we have someone who is actually getting in our way--this is the person who wanted to change the percentages, after being explicitly and specifically told we'd be using dollars rather than percentages. All of which adds yet another layer of crap on top of the processes. Everything thinks helperperson needs to go, and apparently s/he is on some kind of performance evaluation, but meanwhile, we're getting crap. And also also, helperperson dumps stuff in my lap without actually doing his/her homework first, in a frantic effort to show that s/he is doing the work and is getting stuff off his/her desk.
Can you tell it's getting on my last fucking frayed nerve?
Anyway.
This weekend will feature a lot of beer-drinking, preceded by maragaritas and great tex-mex food the night before, and succeeded by french bistro food for breakfast, and then possibly a cat will make its way back into Friend's house. We contemplated going away next weekend, too, and I took off several days to facilitate that, but Friend just had to dump a whole bunch of money into his (17-year-old) vehicle, which has nearly 260,000 miles on it. And he still needs new tires for it. But after that, he mostly needs to get through this next winter with it, and start shopping for a replacement in earnest. In any case, the other trip next weekend now looks less likely, which is okay with me, too--not least because I just got a substantial special assessment.
I apologize that my first post in awhile features a lot of complaints--back to food blogging soon, I promise! And furniture blogging, too, when my shelves get here.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Whole Grain
This is the whole thing, finished, with the mail rack on top (it's still in Arizona; it's being crated and sent on Monday).
And here's a close-up that shows the grain of the wood.
As always, click to embiggen.
And here's a close-up that shows the grain of the wood.
As always, click to embiggen.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Scrappy
Well, I ended up doing a version of Iron Chef at my house tonight. The great thing about it was that I was able to make something for tomorrow's potluck at work and I was able to use up a whole bunch of scraps from around the kitchen. The two major things I had hanging around were three-quarters of a loaf of whole-grain bread that had gotten pretty stale and a fuckton of zucchini. I had originally thought to make a sweet bread pudding, maybe with some fruit thrown in, but then I thought doing it as a savory would be a better idea, one that would enable me to use up some of the zucchini. I sliced the zukes in the food processor. I chopped an onion and what I thought was another onion but that was a huge fucking shallot from my CSA share, and put those to saute in the big pan with some olive oil and a chunk of pesto from the freezer. I threw in four cloves of crushed garlic, too--also from my farm share--and then the zukes. I tried not to cook it too much. The bread--more than a pound of it--I cut into very small cubes. I used three cups of milk, six eggs, about three quarters of a cup of cream (basically, I used up some old milk and some old cream; I would have left out the cream if it were just for me, and I would not go out and buy it, but I happened to have a bunch of that around, too).
I mixed the cooked veggies into the bread cubes, then poured the milk and egg mix over it. I stirred it, a lot, and threw in some grated parmesan that was sitting in the fridge, and some grated carrots that I had intended to use for salads this week. I let it sit, stirred it again, and it's in the fridge now. Tomorrow I"m going to bake it in muffin tins, so there will be individual nibbles. I'm going to add some cheese curds (again, in the fridge, otherwise I'd grate some gruyere), and I took some slow-roasted herbed tomatos out of the freezer, which I'll chop and put on top tomorrow before I bake it. (I was a bit concerned about mixing the tomatos in, because of the milk, but I might do that anyway.) I was tempted to make it in a big pan, but I realized that it wouldn't bake all that evenly, or quickly, and would be harder to transport as well, so I think the little things will work better. We'll see how it comes out.
Finally, on tonight's Top Chef, more annoyance. This season has yet to really interest me, in many ways, and a lot of the people commenting at Television Without Pity seem to feel the same way. It may be that the lesser chefs have just taken up too much time and space and it'll improve, but . . .
The people who continue to annoy the fuck out of me: Amanda, oh lordy, she's insane. Not to mention, for someone who said, a few weeks ago, that she was an addict when she was younger, she cooks with an awful lot of alcohol. Having spent a fair amount of time around recovering people--and having been married to one--that just strikes me as odd. I know that alcohol is useful for flavors and sauces and such, but EVERY dish? And Angelo continues to provide adjectives with his dish, which is completely annoying; you provide the food, I'll pick my own fucking adjectives, 'kay? I find it disturbing how much he's treating the whole thing like Survivor: Kitchen. I know there is always a certain amount of strategery, but he really seems to take it to a whole 'nother level, and that turns me off. If you can cook, then your need for that kind of strategizing is really limited.
Finally, I ordered a table from a place I found online, a guy in Arizona who does custom furniture in the Arts & Crafts and Mission styles. It's nearly done--just needs a mail box on top (I asked him to create some kind of box to put on it for me to throw my mail into, but let him decide whatever he wanted to do) and finishing. Here's what it looks like in his workshop:
I'll post another picture when I get it and it's in its proper place.
I mixed the cooked veggies into the bread cubes, then poured the milk and egg mix over it. I stirred it, a lot, and threw in some grated parmesan that was sitting in the fridge, and some grated carrots that I had intended to use for salads this week. I let it sit, stirred it again, and it's in the fridge now. Tomorrow I"m going to bake it in muffin tins, so there will be individual nibbles. I'm going to add some cheese curds (again, in the fridge, otherwise I'd grate some gruyere), and I took some slow-roasted herbed tomatos out of the freezer, which I'll chop and put on top tomorrow before I bake it. (I was a bit concerned about mixing the tomatos in, because of the milk, but I might do that anyway.) I was tempted to make it in a big pan, but I realized that it wouldn't bake all that evenly, or quickly, and would be harder to transport as well, so I think the little things will work better. We'll see how it comes out.
Finally, on tonight's Top Chef, more annoyance. This season has yet to really interest me, in many ways, and a lot of the people commenting at Television Without Pity seem to feel the same way. It may be that the lesser chefs have just taken up too much time and space and it'll improve, but . . .
The people who continue to annoy the fuck out of me: Amanda, oh lordy, she's insane. Not to mention, for someone who said, a few weeks ago, that she was an addict when she was younger, she cooks with an awful lot of alcohol. Having spent a fair amount of time around recovering people--and having been married to one--that just strikes me as odd. I know that alcohol is useful for flavors and sauces and such, but EVERY dish? And Angelo continues to provide adjectives with his dish, which is completely annoying; you provide the food, I'll pick my own fucking adjectives, 'kay? I find it disturbing how much he's treating the whole thing like Survivor: Kitchen. I know there is always a certain amount of strategery, but he really seems to take it to a whole 'nother level, and that turns me off. If you can cook, then your need for that kind of strategizing is really limited.
Finally, I ordered a table from a place I found online, a guy in Arizona who does custom furniture in the Arts & Crafts and Mission styles. It's nearly done--just needs a mail box on top (I asked him to create some kind of box to put on it for me to throw my mail into, but let him decide whatever he wanted to do) and finishing. Here's what it looks like in his workshop:
I'll post another picture when I get it and it's in its proper place.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Lazy Hazy
Tonight: No hockey, no Tour, no friends in the house. Ergo, it feels kinda strange. I had a fabulous time on my vacation; I must do that again sometime! Perhaps, soon! Given that I have more than three weeks' worth of time, I will in fact go ahead and do that.
M and I did a whole big bunch of nothing. We talked endlessly (and wonderfully); given that we have known each other for more than three decades and know each other's families and life stories, it wasn't as if we were going to run out of things to say. And we got to spend a bunch of time on the back porch and the sun porch, helping confirm just how wonderful those spaces are.
Saturday Friend and I took a friend to Madison so she (and we) could get a brewery tour, talk to a brewmaster, and drink beer. That was pretty good, too. We got back yesterday afternoon, and I couldn't help but think that a vacation from my vacation would have been a good thing. As it was, I had things in flames on my desk already, so that would have been a bad idea.
So, really, I don't have any profound thoughts tonight; I barely have any thoughts at all. Which is also fine. I'll put out a few more fires tomorrow, perhaps, and take it from there. This week is also full of social events, so I'm not sure where sleeping is going to fit in. Dinner tomorrow, possibly drinks with an old friend on Wednesday, and then concerts on Thursday through Saturday. Sunday will involve a great deal of nothing, I suspect.
M and I did a whole big bunch of nothing. We talked endlessly (and wonderfully); given that we have known each other for more than three decades and know each other's families and life stories, it wasn't as if we were going to run out of things to say. And we got to spend a bunch of time on the back porch and the sun porch, helping confirm just how wonderful those spaces are.
Saturday Friend and I took a friend to Madison so she (and we) could get a brewery tour, talk to a brewmaster, and drink beer. That was pretty good, too. We got back yesterday afternoon, and I couldn't help but think that a vacation from my vacation would have been a good thing. As it was, I had things in flames on my desk already, so that would have been a bad idea.
So, really, I don't have any profound thoughts tonight; I barely have any thoughts at all. Which is also fine. I'll put out a few more fires tomorrow, perhaps, and take it from there. This week is also full of social events, so I'm not sure where sleeping is going to fit in. Dinner tomorrow, possibly drinks with an old friend on Wednesday, and then concerts on Thursday through Saturday. Sunday will involve a great deal of nothing, I suspect.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Get Your Ass in the Kitchen and Make Me a Pie
I've been sleeping for shit lately--waking up early more than having trouble getting to sleep--but I've decided to ignore it. I don't actually feel tired during the day, so I"m going to assume that my brain just is a little wired at the moment. It's true that there's a lot going on, mostly at work, some of it very stressful, but I don't think that's it. I tend to regard these things as random and transient, so whatevs.
Meanwhile, on Top Chef this week: Pie Fail! Partly as a way to introduce the upcoming latest in the Top Chef line of programming, they had a rock star pastry chef to judge the quickfire, which was: make a pie. Seriously--that was it. And the Pie Fail? Was all over the kitchen. The absolute best comment, however, was the person who complained, "I'm not a pastry chef," to which RockStar Pastry Chef said, "My grandmother's not a pastry chef, either, and she can make a pie." Total pwnage.
That's the thing that kind of blows me away. This is Season SEVEN, people! Once you know you're going to be on the show (or hey, live dangerously, when you're still fucking trying out to get on), there are a half a dozen formulas you need to commit to memory:
1. A basic pie crust--this can be used in both sweet and savory concoctions, so it will increase your options for your all kinds of dishes (e.g., a breakfast quiche, anyone?)
2. A basic cake formula (ratio of flour, fat, liquid, leavening), which can be adapted in a number of ways; old Domestic Science cookbooks are full of this shit, because it dates to when women were trying to get into places like MIT by demonstrating the scientific aspects of their household work; if you make it look more like a chemistry task, then it looks all sciency and it "elevates" it, which of course is a whole nother patriarchy-induced cringe moment, but we'll ignore that for the moment. The point is? Cake.
3. Pastry cream. Really not difficult, and it can be used in so many ways it's not even funny.
4. A basic cookie recipe. Sugar cookies cab be flavored with all kinds of herbs and spices, and you've suddenly expanded those possibilities as well.
5. A basic yeasted dough. You can turn this into a whole-grain bread, or a baguette, or sweet rolls. This may be the least important one, but it may give you an opportunity to put an extra something on a plate at some point (restaurant wars, anyone?), and a lot of yeasted doughs don't require much work on your part--the yeast does all the work!
6. A basic ganache. You can go crazy and add a buttercream and/or an italian meringue to this (the latter would be very useful, as the meringue principle could probably be used in savory concoctions somehow as well).
This will get you enough information for just about any dessert challenge, I'd say. BT, whaddya say? What am I missing? What would your list have?
Point being, however, even if you're going to be hiring a pastry chef at Your Famous Restaurant, you should know some basic things to make (not least because you want to have a potential pastry cook know how to do these things, I'd say), and you really want to be able to evaluate the work that your pastry kitchen is putting out the door.
Meanwhile, on Top Chef this week: Pie Fail! Partly as a way to introduce the upcoming latest in the Top Chef line of programming, they had a rock star pastry chef to judge the quickfire, which was: make a pie. Seriously--that was it. And the Pie Fail? Was all over the kitchen. The absolute best comment, however, was the person who complained, "I'm not a pastry chef," to which RockStar Pastry Chef said, "My grandmother's not a pastry chef, either, and she can make a pie." Total pwnage.
That's the thing that kind of blows me away. This is Season SEVEN, people! Once you know you're going to be on the show (or hey, live dangerously, when you're still fucking trying out to get on), there are a half a dozen formulas you need to commit to memory:
1. A basic pie crust--this can be used in both sweet and savory concoctions, so it will increase your options for your all kinds of dishes (e.g., a breakfast quiche, anyone?)
2. A basic cake formula (ratio of flour, fat, liquid, leavening), which can be adapted in a number of ways; old Domestic Science cookbooks are full of this shit, because it dates to when women were trying to get into places like MIT by demonstrating the scientific aspects of their household work; if you make it look more like a chemistry task, then it looks all sciency and it "elevates" it, which of course is a whole nother patriarchy-induced cringe moment, but we'll ignore that for the moment. The point is? Cake.
3. Pastry cream. Really not difficult, and it can be used in so many ways it's not even funny.
4. A basic cookie recipe. Sugar cookies cab be flavored with all kinds of herbs and spices, and you've suddenly expanded those possibilities as well.
5. A basic yeasted dough. You can turn this into a whole-grain bread, or a baguette, or sweet rolls. This may be the least important one, but it may give you an opportunity to put an extra something on a plate at some point (restaurant wars, anyone?), and a lot of yeasted doughs don't require much work on your part--the yeast does all the work!
6. A basic ganache. You can go crazy and add a buttercream and/or an italian meringue to this (the latter would be very useful, as the meringue principle could probably be used in savory concoctions somehow as well).
This will get you enough information for just about any dessert challenge, I'd say. BT, whaddya say? What am I missing? What would your list have?
Point being, however, even if you're going to be hiring a pastry chef at Your Famous Restaurant, you should know some basic things to make (not least because you want to have a potential pastry cook know how to do these things, I'd say), and you really want to be able to evaluate the work that your pastry kitchen is putting out the door.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Little of This, Little of That
Okay, let's see.
First and foremost, one of my best friends ever is coming to visit next week. You may remember her; she sang at the wedding. I met her my very first day of college, back in 1977, so I have known her for 33 years. Yes, well more than half of my life. I cannot wait to see her. I'm taking off the whole week (really only four days, because we get off on Monday for the holiday), which will give me time to clean on Tuesday, and then we have most of three days to hang out and sit on the sun porch and drink tea and just talk and talk and talk.
Second, Chuck and I had some intense email exchanges last week, which I hope cleared the air between us a bit and cleared the way for me to see CK again. I have to give him his props: he continues to try to do the right thing, which is all we can ever ask of anyone. I'm still not going to go into detail about any of it here, except to say that I'm glad.
Third, the Crossroads festival was, as expected, quite excellent. The day was very damn long (oh MY how long . . .) and I was about to tip over by the time it was over, but the music was really great. We also managed to stay out of the sun for most of the day, which, given that Friend and I are two of the palest people around, is helpful. Yes, we slather on the sunscreen, but still. We also managed to scam good seats over the course of the day; of the three places we sat, only one was the actual seats on the ticket. The last place--where we sat for the last three hours or so, when the music was even more fab--featured a lot of people with VIP tags as well as a lot of empty seats. The only sour note all day, really, was the fact that this venue had exactly one water fountain. Yes; one. You could BUY water, of course, for $5 a bottle, but can I say no fucking way? At first there was a very long line, but then I think people either gave up and started buying it or started filling their containers in the bathroom sinks (which I kinda doubt, because the water in there was hot--not warm, hot). We, however, being cheap in some ways, saved some plastic beer cups and just refilled those along with the one water bottle we'd snuck in.
Okay, on to the food.
This week's farm share had more garlic scapes, more kohlrabi (to bring the total to three), two beets with greens, a head of lettuce, three mini squash, a little russian kale (those last two, plus some scapes, went into Saturday morning's breakfast scramble), and . . . that might have been it. So yesterday I used up everything: sauteed a chopped onion, then added the garlic scapes (should have waited on those), then the peeled and sliced kohlrabi and a little water, then the sliced mini carrots that needed to be used up, then the sliced beets, and finally the beet greens and some frozen collards (a little bit left in a package). I tossed it with some whole wheat (mostly) pasta and some grated cheese, and we had some grilled wild turkey with it, and it was all good. I threw in a splash of balsamic vinegar, too, and salt and pepper, but that was it for the seasoning. I liked the way the flavors balanced and melded, and it was useful to basically use up all the scraps of vegetables sitting around. In principle I like fresh herbs, but, in practice, I find that it's really, really easy to overwhelm whatever you're cooking with them, so I tend to try to balance the flavors of the other ingredients.
So now I've eaten kohlrabi, and, eh. I mean, it was good and all, but it isn't so good or so distinctive that I would necessarily seek it out, and it doesn't have any special healthy properties, at least not any of which I am aware, and at least not any that, say, broccoli, cauliflower, or cabbage have. (I like the brassica/cruciferous stuff, quite a bit, but I didn't think the kohlrabi was better than any of those three.) I'd eat it again, and I'll likely get the chance with this week's share.
And this season's Top Chef has begun, and, even after two weeks, one person has emerged as a total gaming asshole. Why yes, Angelo, I'm talking about you. Basically, this guy is seriously cocky. He and Tracey won the Quickfire, which meant (a) they had immunity and (b) they could choose the other two people who were going to be on their team for the Elimination Challenge. (Which was that each four-person team had a budget of about $2.60 per kid and had to make a "healthy" lunch for 50 kids--the dollar amount is what most schools have to work with. Some viewers apparently thought it was too preachy, but I was glad to see that theme--and I was completely entertained that Tom's mom was a lunch lady.) Okay, so Angelo and Tracey pick Kenny and Somebody--Kenny being the strongest apparent competition for Angelo at this early stage of the game--to be on their team. This could have been Angelo's way of ensuring that his team won the challenge, but of course Angelo is trying to game the whole system: because he and his partner have immunity, that means if their team loses, the other two people have a greater chance of going home.
So what did Angelo make for his dish? Celery sticks with peanut butter mousse and some kind of tuile. Yes. Celery sticks with peanut butter and a cookie. As a vegetable. The thing is, I think the judges even figured this out, and I do hope this comes back to bite Angelo in the ass. On the Television Without Pity forums, a couple of people who hated various other contestants over the years pointed out that none of those guys would have pulled such a dick move. Seriously, dude; if you think you're all that and a bag of chips, then you should be able to beat anyone else on the show with your actual cooking rather than bullshit games like that.
The other thing that was sort of train-wrecky to watch was the team that had Amanda--the Leah clone--on it. One of the interstitials showed her saying something to the effect that being a team player or taking one for the team wasn't in her vocabulary. Honey, that shit will come back to haunt you at some point. But, more important, (1) one of her teammates was the one who went home, because she made a nasty-ass banana pudding with way too much sugar in it, which she did because there wasn't enough cash in the budget for her original recipe, which included chocolate, and (2) Amanda made chicken thighs with sherry jus. Yes. Alcohol for school children. And a food item that likely broke their fucking budget. (Why did she get to keep her sherry when they were over budget, but Banana Woman had to put back some of her ingredients?) That kind of blew me away. And if I were Amanda, I'd be sending a thank-you note to banana pudding person, because the nastiness of that dish saved Amanda's ass.
I was a little surprised that she went with the banana pudding after she had to change the original conception. And someone on a forum suggested that maybe the bananas weren't quite ripe, which would have explained the trouble she was having with taste and texture. But why stick with that? K and I thought that rice pudding, for example, could have been subbed: brown rice pudding with a swirl of blueberry compote, for example, would have worked just fine, probably been healthier, and surely would have tasted better.
The other thing that that whole thing raised was how the teams split up the budget. Seems to me that you divide the dollar amount in four and negotiate from there. ("Hey, my thing is only going to cost X dollars, leaving me with some extra; who needs it?") It also seems that, if you're going to do something that depends on the condition of the fruit or vegetable, you should have a backup plan. But, hey, it's easy to think these things from my couch, probably harder to do it at Restaurant Depot, when one of the people on your team insists on buying sherry. Still, look at the plate of the team that won: lots more food, and it looks lots more appetizing. I think I want them to make the lunches at my school.
First and foremost, one of my best friends ever is coming to visit next week. You may remember her; she sang at the wedding. I met her my very first day of college, back in 1977, so I have known her for 33 years. Yes, well more than half of my life. I cannot wait to see her. I'm taking off the whole week (really only four days, because we get off on Monday for the holiday), which will give me time to clean on Tuesday, and then we have most of three days to hang out and sit on the sun porch and drink tea and just talk and talk and talk.
Second, Chuck and I had some intense email exchanges last week, which I hope cleared the air between us a bit and cleared the way for me to see CK again. I have to give him his props: he continues to try to do the right thing, which is all we can ever ask of anyone. I'm still not going to go into detail about any of it here, except to say that I'm glad.
Third, the Crossroads festival was, as expected, quite excellent. The day was very damn long (oh MY how long . . .) and I was about to tip over by the time it was over, but the music was really great. We also managed to stay out of the sun for most of the day, which, given that Friend and I are two of the palest people around, is helpful. Yes, we slather on the sunscreen, but still. We also managed to scam good seats over the course of the day; of the three places we sat, only one was the actual seats on the ticket. The last place--where we sat for the last three hours or so, when the music was even more fab--featured a lot of people with VIP tags as well as a lot of empty seats. The only sour note all day, really, was the fact that this venue had exactly one water fountain. Yes; one. You could BUY water, of course, for $5 a bottle, but can I say no fucking way? At first there was a very long line, but then I think people either gave up and started buying it or started filling their containers in the bathroom sinks (which I kinda doubt, because the water in there was hot--not warm, hot). We, however, being cheap in some ways, saved some plastic beer cups and just refilled those along with the one water bottle we'd snuck in.
Okay, on to the food.
This week's farm share had more garlic scapes, more kohlrabi (to bring the total to three), two beets with greens, a head of lettuce, three mini squash, a little russian kale (those last two, plus some scapes, went into Saturday morning's breakfast scramble), and . . . that might have been it. So yesterday I used up everything: sauteed a chopped onion, then added the garlic scapes (should have waited on those), then the peeled and sliced kohlrabi and a little water, then the sliced mini carrots that needed to be used up, then the sliced beets, and finally the beet greens and some frozen collards (a little bit left in a package). I tossed it with some whole wheat (mostly) pasta and some grated cheese, and we had some grilled wild turkey with it, and it was all good. I threw in a splash of balsamic vinegar, too, and salt and pepper, but that was it for the seasoning. I liked the way the flavors balanced and melded, and it was useful to basically use up all the scraps of vegetables sitting around. In principle I like fresh herbs, but, in practice, I find that it's really, really easy to overwhelm whatever you're cooking with them, so I tend to try to balance the flavors of the other ingredients.
So now I've eaten kohlrabi, and, eh. I mean, it was good and all, but it isn't so good or so distinctive that I would necessarily seek it out, and it doesn't have any special healthy properties, at least not any of which I am aware, and at least not any that, say, broccoli, cauliflower, or cabbage have. (I like the brassica/cruciferous stuff, quite a bit, but I didn't think the kohlrabi was better than any of those three.) I'd eat it again, and I'll likely get the chance with this week's share.
And this season's Top Chef has begun, and, even after two weeks, one person has emerged as a total gaming asshole. Why yes, Angelo, I'm talking about you. Basically, this guy is seriously cocky. He and Tracey won the Quickfire, which meant (a) they had immunity and (b) they could choose the other two people who were going to be on their team for the Elimination Challenge. (Which was that each four-person team had a budget of about $2.60 per kid and had to make a "healthy" lunch for 50 kids--the dollar amount is what most schools have to work with. Some viewers apparently thought it was too preachy, but I was glad to see that theme--and I was completely entertained that Tom's mom was a lunch lady.) Okay, so Angelo and Tracey pick Kenny and Somebody--Kenny being the strongest apparent competition for Angelo at this early stage of the game--to be on their team. This could have been Angelo's way of ensuring that his team won the challenge, but of course Angelo is trying to game the whole system: because he and his partner have immunity, that means if their team loses, the other two people have a greater chance of going home.
So what did Angelo make for his dish? Celery sticks with peanut butter mousse and some kind of tuile. Yes. Celery sticks with peanut butter and a cookie. As a vegetable. The thing is, I think the judges even figured this out, and I do hope this comes back to bite Angelo in the ass. On the Television Without Pity forums, a couple of people who hated various other contestants over the years pointed out that none of those guys would have pulled such a dick move. Seriously, dude; if you think you're all that and a bag of chips, then you should be able to beat anyone else on the show with your actual cooking rather than bullshit games like that.
The other thing that was sort of train-wrecky to watch was the team that had Amanda--the Leah clone--on it. One of the interstitials showed her saying something to the effect that being a team player or taking one for the team wasn't in her vocabulary. Honey, that shit will come back to haunt you at some point. But, more important, (1) one of her teammates was the one who went home, because she made a nasty-ass banana pudding with way too much sugar in it, which she did because there wasn't enough cash in the budget for her original recipe, which included chocolate, and (2) Amanda made chicken thighs with sherry jus. Yes. Alcohol for school children. And a food item that likely broke their fucking budget. (Why did she get to keep her sherry when they were over budget, but Banana Woman had to put back some of her ingredients?) That kind of blew me away. And if I were Amanda, I'd be sending a thank-you note to banana pudding person, because the nastiness of that dish saved Amanda's ass.
I was a little surprised that she went with the banana pudding after she had to change the original conception. And someone on a forum suggested that maybe the bananas weren't quite ripe, which would have explained the trouble she was having with taste and texture. But why stick with that? K and I thought that rice pudding, for example, could have been subbed: brown rice pudding with a swirl of blueberry compote, for example, would have worked just fine, probably been healthier, and surely would have tasted better.
The other thing that that whole thing raised was how the teams split up the budget. Seems to me that you divide the dollar amount in four and negotiate from there. ("Hey, my thing is only going to cost X dollars, leaving me with some extra; who needs it?") It also seems that, if you're going to do something that depends on the condition of the fruit or vegetable, you should have a backup plan. But, hey, it's easy to think these things from my couch, probably harder to do it at Restaurant Depot, when one of the people on your team insists on buying sherry. Still, look at the plate of the team that won: lots more food, and it looks lots more appetizing. I think I want them to make the lunches at my school.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Cooking, Baking
Sometime back in March, kstyle positied that bakers and cooks have fundamentally different temperaments, and she later called on commentary from a friend of hers positing that bakers are more likely to make stews and pots of stuff that you put on the stove to cook for awhile (I'm assuming because of a similar aspect in the form of lots of prep/assembly, and then you let it bake for awhile).
And I've been thinking about that, off and on, and I still don't have a good response to it. There are a few things that I make that are timed, but it's also true that (a) a lot of stuff can cook a little bit longer, or sit a little while, without doing serious damage to it, but (b) I've gotten much better, over the years, of timing my cookihg. For example, Sunday's vegetable medley required that the spinach not go into the pan until just before serving. Baby spinach doesn't need much more than wilting, especially if you want to keep some brightness to the green, so you throw it into whatever you're cooking at the very last second. If I'm throwing it over pasta, for example, I throw it into the strainer, so the boiling pasta water basically cooks it as I strain the pasta.
And--and Brazen Tart, who came over bearing a wonderful poundcake a couple of weeks ago, might be able to testify to this--line cooks have a whole lot of stuff prepared as well. So, for example, I reduced the sauce for the meat, and then it just sat on the stove, heat off, until we were ready to eat. I might have rewarmed it just a touch if it needed it, or I might even have saved a tiny bit of butter to put into it as I reheated it (neither of which I did this time, but have done in the past), but it was done. If the grill took more or less time, no matter.
I think what really makes a big difference is that sense of timing. I used to be moderately good at it, purely from throwing a lot of dinner parties as well as cooking at home a lot; I'd have the leisure to plan things out ahead of time, or I would make enough stuff by myself so that I'd just sort of know how long something was going to take. But working at the bakery kicked it up several levels, not surprisingly, and I don't even think about it as I do it.
For example, when Friend makes banana bread, it takes him quite a while to do so. He hasn't done all that much baking (though he HAS made a lot of stews), which I think makes a difference. When I make it--and we use different recipes, I might add--I zip through it. We each have found a recipe we like, and we have each made our own recipe (in our own respective kitchens) multiple times, so it's not even a difference in familiarity with a particular recipe or tools. It's just . . . I've done something LIKE this hundreds or maybe even thousands of times in my life, and I had a job for two years that honed whatever skills I brought to the table. Of course I'm going to be faster at it--I'd better be.
So the two factors that are relevant, IMHO, are timing (and one's ability to work within timing constraints) and where the prep work and/or tweaking come in.
Or something.
I'm actually quite tired, and making an active (though obviousy not entirely successful) effort to write about something other than work. Tomorrow will feature another heinous financial meeting, and I am tired of it before it even begins. But, whatevs. I had a fabulous dinner last night, I'm going to get some work done around the house this weekend (including laundry, damnit), and summer is just about here. And I'm sitting on my sun porch, with the windows open (though it's dark, so I can't see anything), listening to summer and cars pass by. Pretty damned good.
And I've been thinking about that, off and on, and I still don't have a good response to it. There are a few things that I make that are timed, but it's also true that (a) a lot of stuff can cook a little bit longer, or sit a little while, without doing serious damage to it, but (b) I've gotten much better, over the years, of timing my cookihg. For example, Sunday's vegetable medley required that the spinach not go into the pan until just before serving. Baby spinach doesn't need much more than wilting, especially if you want to keep some brightness to the green, so you throw it into whatever you're cooking at the very last second. If I'm throwing it over pasta, for example, I throw it into the strainer, so the boiling pasta water basically cooks it as I strain the pasta.
And--and Brazen Tart, who came over bearing a wonderful poundcake a couple of weeks ago, might be able to testify to this--line cooks have a whole lot of stuff prepared as well. So, for example, I reduced the sauce for the meat, and then it just sat on the stove, heat off, until we were ready to eat. I might have rewarmed it just a touch if it needed it, or I might even have saved a tiny bit of butter to put into it as I reheated it (neither of which I did this time, but have done in the past), but it was done. If the grill took more or less time, no matter.
I think what really makes a big difference is that sense of timing. I used to be moderately good at it, purely from throwing a lot of dinner parties as well as cooking at home a lot; I'd have the leisure to plan things out ahead of time, or I would make enough stuff by myself so that I'd just sort of know how long something was going to take. But working at the bakery kicked it up several levels, not surprisingly, and I don't even think about it as I do it.
For example, when Friend makes banana bread, it takes him quite a while to do so. He hasn't done all that much baking (though he HAS made a lot of stews), which I think makes a difference. When I make it--and we use different recipes, I might add--I zip through it. We each have found a recipe we like, and we have each made our own recipe (in our own respective kitchens) multiple times, so it's not even a difference in familiarity with a particular recipe or tools. It's just . . . I've done something LIKE this hundreds or maybe even thousands of times in my life, and I had a job for two years that honed whatever skills I brought to the table. Of course I'm going to be faster at it--I'd better be.
So the two factors that are relevant, IMHO, are timing (and one's ability to work within timing constraints) and where the prep work and/or tweaking come in.
Or something.
I'm actually quite tired, and making an active (though obviousy not entirely successful) effort to write about something other than work. Tomorrow will feature another heinous financial meeting, and I am tired of it before it even begins. But, whatevs. I had a fabulous dinner last night, I'm going to get some work done around the house this weekend (including laundry, damnit), and summer is just about here. And I'm sitting on my sun porch, with the windows open (though it's dark, so I can't see anything), listening to summer and cars pass by. Pretty damned good.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Our Friend the Turnip
I have apparently lost the will to exercise. I find this rather disturbing, and the rational brain lectures me that I Will Feel Better If I Just Exercise Already, and harrumphs and rolls its eyes, but it makes no progress in getting the rest of me to put on the workout clothes and get on the rowing machine, even if for only a little while. I imagine it has something to do with the huge stress machine that work has become, and I most assuredly wish I could Do Something About It, but whatevs. Sooner or later I'll figure it out, I suppose. I rather wish it would be sooner rather than later, so I could fit back into some of my clothes.
Meanwhile, the farm share adventure is underway. I've had turnips the past two weeks (along with a buttload of lettuce, some kale the week before last, some strawberries, a teensy bit of broccoli, and more lettuce), which I had never cooked before. This week's experiment turned out somewhat better: I chopped an onion, cooked it in some olive oil and butter, then threw in the three sliced turnips and also added a sliced/chopped up apple. I sauteed that for awhile, then had to turn it off so I could run to the store for some fresh garlic. I added a couple of pressed cloves of garlic when I returned, along with some chopped up chicken/tomato/basil sausages. Meanwhile, there was kamut cooking on a back burner (only soaked for an hour or so, rather than the recommended six), onions caramelized on another burner, and some red wine and leftover berries (blue and straw) and their juices reducing in the onion pan. When the venison went on the grill, I threw in the spinach I'd gotten at the store with the garlic (I'd originally intended to use some frozen collards in there, in addition to the turnip greens, but decided that might be more bitter greens than I really wanted) so it had just enough time to wilt. The sauce ended up taking about a teaspoon of honey, because it was just slightly too sour/bitter, and the sauce, though good, still ended up slightly overwhelming the venison. The venison ring bologna--which is way too salty for my tastes--could stand up to the sauce, however.
The turnip thing was served over the kamut. The verdict? The turnip thing was quite tasty; better than last week's attempt, likely because I let the turnips cook a little longer. The sweetness of the apples and the spice of the sausage really went well with the turnips and greens. The kamut? Eh. It was okay, but nothing special. I like farro and barley much better, because both have more flavor to them.
I've also been eating a whole lot of salads; I grate a carrot in there, and throw in a handful of dried cherries, nuts, pine nuts, and/or grated cheese. Tonight I got some more carrots and salad dressing, so I grabbed some little tomatos for this week's eating. I try not to make it the 4,000-calorie salad, but a bowl of lettuce with nothing else in it is really not going to work for me.
This week's farm batch, arriving tomorrow morning, includes lettuce, cabbage, kale, kohlrabi, and garlic scapes; I've never eaten either of the last two, so more adventures to be had there. I found a recipe for roasted butternut squash and kohlrabi, and I have one more squash left over from last fall, so I think I'll try that. Garlic scapes I'll probably either throw in the salads or throw in the kohlrabi thing or cook with the cabbage somehow. Clearly I've been eating extensively from the brassica/cruciferous food groups.
All in all, I think the boxes are a little bit small, but it's early in the season. It is forcing me to live on a lot of vegetation, however, which is probably a good thing, particularly with the exercise aversion I'm currently experiencing.
As noted above, work is wildly stressful lately. Yeah, I know that I say that all the time; it just keeps feeling like it ratchets up without every ratcheting down. At the moment, for example, one of our major funding agencies is completely peevish at us, because we haven't turned in a bunch of data reports. On one hand, their data requests are never-ending, and excessive, and a complete pain--but they're they funders, so they get to request whatever the fuck they want. On a second hand, however, our data person can be a bit of a challenge to work with, and I'm getting rather tired of that. So I end up caught between, with both the source of data and the requester of data pissed off at me.
What's starting to happen, though, is that I have so many things on fire on my desk I just don't give a shit any more. Each day I try to focus on getting a couple of things done, and I do them, and the rest of the stuff will just have to fucking wait. You're pissed off at me too? Get the fuck in line. I know what your request is, and it's on my list, but I cannot get to it just yet.
And our budget this year is going to be a huge fucking challenge. Is our financial person helping us at all? No; no s/he is not. S/he sends finger-waving emails, and expressions of concern, but no actual helpful advice or analysis, and I am really fucking tired of that, too. The latest suggestion, today, was another useless bit of twaddle that does not seem to encompass any understanding at all of how our program works or the financial constraints we face. If I can carve out some time before yet another Big Meeting on Friday, I am going to do a line-by-line analysis of our budget, taking care to point out just how many expenses are out of our control and/or determined by Downtown.
I wish I had more time to enjoy my condo, too; even that ends up being stressful sometimes, largely because of my own craziness. I really don't have very much furniture, but I am absolutely determined to get it a little at a time, rather than blow all of my savings. And there's a whole room--the second bedroom, and the closet in there--that has a whole lot of crap in it, stuff that I have jammed in the closet, or not sorted, or whatever, and I do not, not, not have the energy to do that. Remember the tile-making class? Well, I did make one tile--and then never got my ass over to the school to pick it up, meaning it has probably been destroyed by now. Again, completely my own fault; I'd finish a long day at work and just not feel like taking an extra hour and a half to get home (taking into account the trip to the school and then home).
Whine, whine, whine.
Mostly, despite all of this whining, I'm hanging in there. Someday I want to find the energy for blog posts about something other than what I made for dinner and the sucky things that are happening somewhere in my life. My mood is much better than all of this complaining would lead you to believe. Maybe I'll just stick to food blogging for awhile . . .
Meanwhile, the farm share adventure is underway. I've had turnips the past two weeks (along with a buttload of lettuce, some kale the week before last, some strawberries, a teensy bit of broccoli, and more lettuce), which I had never cooked before. This week's experiment turned out somewhat better: I chopped an onion, cooked it in some olive oil and butter, then threw in the three sliced turnips and also added a sliced/chopped up apple. I sauteed that for awhile, then had to turn it off so I could run to the store for some fresh garlic. I added a couple of pressed cloves of garlic when I returned, along with some chopped up chicken/tomato/basil sausages. Meanwhile, there was kamut cooking on a back burner (only soaked for an hour or so, rather than the recommended six), onions caramelized on another burner, and some red wine and leftover berries (blue and straw) and their juices reducing in the onion pan. When the venison went on the grill, I threw in the spinach I'd gotten at the store with the garlic (I'd originally intended to use some frozen collards in there, in addition to the turnip greens, but decided that might be more bitter greens than I really wanted) so it had just enough time to wilt. The sauce ended up taking about a teaspoon of honey, because it was just slightly too sour/bitter, and the sauce, though good, still ended up slightly overwhelming the venison. The venison ring bologna--which is way too salty for my tastes--could stand up to the sauce, however.
The turnip thing was served over the kamut. The verdict? The turnip thing was quite tasty; better than last week's attempt, likely because I let the turnips cook a little longer. The sweetness of the apples and the spice of the sausage really went well with the turnips and greens. The kamut? Eh. It was okay, but nothing special. I like farro and barley much better, because both have more flavor to them.
I've also been eating a whole lot of salads; I grate a carrot in there, and throw in a handful of dried cherries, nuts, pine nuts, and/or grated cheese. Tonight I got some more carrots and salad dressing, so I grabbed some little tomatos for this week's eating. I try not to make it the 4,000-calorie salad, but a bowl of lettuce with nothing else in it is really not going to work for me.
This week's farm batch, arriving tomorrow morning, includes lettuce, cabbage, kale, kohlrabi, and garlic scapes; I've never eaten either of the last two, so more adventures to be had there. I found a recipe for roasted butternut squash and kohlrabi, and I have one more squash left over from last fall, so I think I'll try that. Garlic scapes I'll probably either throw in the salads or throw in the kohlrabi thing or cook with the cabbage somehow. Clearly I've been eating extensively from the brassica/cruciferous food groups.
All in all, I think the boxes are a little bit small, but it's early in the season. It is forcing me to live on a lot of vegetation, however, which is probably a good thing, particularly with the exercise aversion I'm currently experiencing.
As noted above, work is wildly stressful lately. Yeah, I know that I say that all the time; it just keeps feeling like it ratchets up without every ratcheting down. At the moment, for example, one of our major funding agencies is completely peevish at us, because we haven't turned in a bunch of data reports. On one hand, their data requests are never-ending, and excessive, and a complete pain--but they're they funders, so they get to request whatever the fuck they want. On a second hand, however, our data person can be a bit of a challenge to work with, and I'm getting rather tired of that. So I end up caught between, with both the source of data and the requester of data pissed off at me.
What's starting to happen, though, is that I have so many things on fire on my desk I just don't give a shit any more. Each day I try to focus on getting a couple of things done, and I do them, and the rest of the stuff will just have to fucking wait. You're pissed off at me too? Get the fuck in line. I know what your request is, and it's on my list, but I cannot get to it just yet.
And our budget this year is going to be a huge fucking challenge. Is our financial person helping us at all? No; no s/he is not. S/he sends finger-waving emails, and expressions of concern, but no actual helpful advice or analysis, and I am really fucking tired of that, too. The latest suggestion, today, was another useless bit of twaddle that does not seem to encompass any understanding at all of how our program works or the financial constraints we face. If I can carve out some time before yet another Big Meeting on Friday, I am going to do a line-by-line analysis of our budget, taking care to point out just how many expenses are out of our control and/or determined by Downtown.
I wish I had more time to enjoy my condo, too; even that ends up being stressful sometimes, largely because of my own craziness. I really don't have very much furniture, but I am absolutely determined to get it a little at a time, rather than blow all of my savings. And there's a whole room--the second bedroom, and the closet in there--that has a whole lot of crap in it, stuff that I have jammed in the closet, or not sorted, or whatever, and I do not, not, not have the energy to do that. Remember the tile-making class? Well, I did make one tile--and then never got my ass over to the school to pick it up, meaning it has probably been destroyed by now. Again, completely my own fault; I'd finish a long day at work and just not feel like taking an extra hour and a half to get home (taking into account the trip to the school and then home).
Whine, whine, whine.
Mostly, despite all of this whining, I'm hanging in there. Someday I want to find the energy for blog posts about something other than what I made for dinner and the sucky things that are happening somewhere in my life. My mood is much better than all of this complaining would lead you to believe. Maybe I'll just stick to food blogging for awhile . . .
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Salad Days
The first share included three bunches/kinds of lettuce (was supposed to be four, I think), a wad of Russian kale, a wad of spinach, a teensy little bit of broccoli, and four or five hakurei turnips with greens attached (the only thing in the box I haven't had, I think). Although I'm paying to have the stuff delivered to my door, it didn't work out for yesterday (long boring story), so I picked the box up from a local natural foods store that serves as a drop-off for other people (i.e., it wasn't really out of the way for the delivery person), and got some salad dressing and two boxes of strawberries that look pretty spectacular. (I would have gotten a flat of them, except I had to haul everything on the bus, number one, and, number two, I think I'm going to be getting strawberries in my share next week.)
Normally I am not a Salad Person. I like salad well enough, but I find it to be a pain to buy, wash, prepare, etc., so I tend to avoid making my own. But, hey, three kinds of lettuce, and I have some carrots and dried fruit, and even some raw onion if I feel really adventurous, and there's lunch. And then some strawberries and pineapple for breakfast--there's health breaking out all over the damn place. Except for the part where I could not, not, not get myself to work out tonight. I wanted to, I meant to, but the flesh was completely unwilling, despite the ever-increasing amounts of said flesh.
The six days off in a row were pretty fabulous; they could have been more fabulous only if (a) there were more of them and (b) I didn't have several shitstorms on my desk and in my email when I got back today. I managed to stem the tide on one and repair the levee on another, but I basically have a huge wad of things to do in about two weeks. The new fiscal year starts July 1, and I get a little urpy thinking about the things that really, truly must be done before that time.
Then I turn on a hockey game (go hawks!) and have a beer and forget about it, at least until I get to my desk again.
Speaking of hockey, I've been keeping half an eye on the ticket possibilities, on the off chance that something turns up on Ticketbastard at the last moment. That shows no signs of happening of course. So occasionally I wander over to the resale sites--there's one that Ticketbastard runs, plus craigslist, plus a couple of the other big ones--and it's kind of laughable. At this point, the cheapest ticket for the next Hawks home game, if it occurs, is about $800. Others are going for $4000 or more (lots more) per ticket, and seats on the glass are going for more than $11,000 per ticket.
Which guarantees that I will not be purchasing a ticket for the game. And, if you want to know, it kinda grosses me out. If you had those seats, wouldn't you want to use them? And if you couldn't use them, okay, I can see getting a little more than your money back, but do you have any friends who might enjoy and appreciate them and would even pay face value? I guess, for really good seats, I can see doubling the face value. But the prices listed are just greedy and nuts, and, if I were the kind of person who really believed in karma, I'd think that that kind of markup is a good way to gin up some seriously bad karma. I'm sure there are all kinds of extenuating circumstances--you just happened to find a ticket laying in the gutter, and your house is being foreclosed, so you're going to use the money to put a roof over the heads of your kids--but short of that? No.
And I have to wonder who's willing to pay that money. I mean seriously: it surely isn't the everyday fans who sit in the 300 level, and it isn't the guys who have been following the team for years and years. It's the people who have to see and be seen, I suppose. But WTF do I know? I don't travel in those circles and never will.
It reminds me of what I was thinking about shoes today. (Huh??) No; stick with me for a minute. There are three rough levels of shoes: the completely cheap shoes that are going to fall apart and/or hurt your feet (but may be all that many people can afford); the somewhat-better-made shoes that are going to last awhile but may not be "fashion forward," as they say; and then the really expensive shoes. There are some that are really expensive because they are handmade or something, I suppose, but mostly it seems that people are buying the brand name and the fashionability; they're no longer buying something to wear on their feet to protect themselves from having to walk barefoot, they're using their feet for display purposes. And that's the part that always seems bizarre to me. Don't get me wrong, I like Nice Stuff, up to a point, and I've learned that, with many things, you do, indeed, get what you pay for, so I'll pay, and get, a little (or a lot) more when I can afford to do so, but what I'm buying isn't someone's name on my feet and, as everyone I know can testify, I am not exactly a fashionable person.
Anyway, I could babble on for longer, but I'm also, increasingly, not exactly an awake person, so it's off to bed with me.
Normally I am not a Salad Person. I like salad well enough, but I find it to be a pain to buy, wash, prepare, etc., so I tend to avoid making my own. But, hey, three kinds of lettuce, and I have some carrots and dried fruit, and even some raw onion if I feel really adventurous, and there's lunch. And then some strawberries and pineapple for breakfast--there's health breaking out all over the damn place. Except for the part where I could not, not, not get myself to work out tonight. I wanted to, I meant to, but the flesh was completely unwilling, despite the ever-increasing amounts of said flesh.
The six days off in a row were pretty fabulous; they could have been more fabulous only if (a) there were more of them and (b) I didn't have several shitstorms on my desk and in my email when I got back today. I managed to stem the tide on one and repair the levee on another, but I basically have a huge wad of things to do in about two weeks. The new fiscal year starts July 1, and I get a little urpy thinking about the things that really, truly must be done before that time.
Then I turn on a hockey game (go hawks!) and have a beer and forget about it, at least until I get to my desk again.
Speaking of hockey, I've been keeping half an eye on the ticket possibilities, on the off chance that something turns up on Ticketbastard at the last moment. That shows no signs of happening of course. So occasionally I wander over to the resale sites--there's one that Ticketbastard runs, plus craigslist, plus a couple of the other big ones--and it's kind of laughable. At this point, the cheapest ticket for the next Hawks home game, if it occurs, is about $800. Others are going for $4000 or more (lots more) per ticket, and seats on the glass are going for more than $11,000 per ticket.
Which guarantees that I will not be purchasing a ticket for the game. And, if you want to know, it kinda grosses me out. If you had those seats, wouldn't you want to use them? And if you couldn't use them, okay, I can see getting a little more than your money back, but do you have any friends who might enjoy and appreciate them and would even pay face value? I guess, for really good seats, I can see doubling the face value. But the prices listed are just greedy and nuts, and, if I were the kind of person who really believed in karma, I'd think that that kind of markup is a good way to gin up some seriously bad karma. I'm sure there are all kinds of extenuating circumstances--you just happened to find a ticket laying in the gutter, and your house is being foreclosed, so you're going to use the money to put a roof over the heads of your kids--but short of that? No.
And I have to wonder who's willing to pay that money. I mean seriously: it surely isn't the everyday fans who sit in the 300 level, and it isn't the guys who have been following the team for years and years. It's the people who have to see and be seen, I suppose. But WTF do I know? I don't travel in those circles and never will.
It reminds me of what I was thinking about shoes today. (Huh??) No; stick with me for a minute. There are three rough levels of shoes: the completely cheap shoes that are going to fall apart and/or hurt your feet (but may be all that many people can afford); the somewhat-better-made shoes that are going to last awhile but may not be "fashion forward," as they say; and then the really expensive shoes. There are some that are really expensive because they are handmade or something, I suppose, but mostly it seems that people are buying the brand name and the fashionability; they're no longer buying something to wear on their feet to protect themselves from having to walk barefoot, they're using their feet for display purposes. And that's the part that always seems bizarre to me. Don't get me wrong, I like Nice Stuff, up to a point, and I've learned that, with many things, you do, indeed, get what you pay for, so I'll pay, and get, a little (or a lot) more when I can afford to do so, but what I'm buying isn't someone's name on my feet and, as everyone I know can testify, I am not exactly a fashionable person.
Anyway, I could babble on for longer, but I'm also, increasingly, not exactly an awake person, so it's off to bed with me.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Vegetables, Now with More Stress
So this summer's adventure is going to be . . . vegetables!
Yeah, I know, I'm the last person in the universe to sign up for a CSA share (a small share, actually, because I'm not trying to feed a family of four). I found one that had a long list of stuff I like (or even love), and, even cooler, they deliver to your door. Yes, there's a charge for that, but it also means I don't have to haul a half a bushel of produce on a bus or el. Total cost is going to be less than $25/week. Okay, still not exactly cheap, but a half a bushel of fresh organic produce, delivered to my door, every week, plus I get to support a local farmer? Sounds good to me.
And, really, it will keep me from wandering through the farmers markets, overloading myself with stuff that then must be hauled and that proceeds to get mauled by bumping around in my bags for the duration of the travel. I'm still going to need to buy fruit and honey, but I'm okay with that. I'm also going to do what I did last year with the blueberries: buy a big wad and then freeze them into small bags for dumping into oatmeal.
I will probably freeze a lot of stuff from this effort, and I"m okay with that, too. I already buy frozen vegetables a lot of the time, precisely to avoid things turning into a science project in the fridge. In short, I wouldn't be surprised if my 30 weeks of produce ends up lasting for a lot of the year. Some of it--winter squash, anyone?--already lends itself to keeping; I still have two butternut squashes from last fall sitting on my counter. Other bits, like herbs, I'll probably chop and freeze as herb pestos; easy enough to hack off a little, and I have found, from my basil pesto operations, that, if you squish the pesto to the bottom of the baggie and squeeze out the air, the pesto log will last for years. Once you start hacking bits off--and break the seal, basically--it can get a little freezer burned, but I've also learned to make the logs relatively small.
I am so tired.
This week has been full of more stress--yesterday I discovered that I had forgotten two providers in our budgets. (All people currently on staff were supposed to already be preloaded in the system, but these two were not, possibly because they started relatively recently; I half-noticed they weren't there last week, but then must have gotten distracted by something else, or figured I couldn't find them, or whatthefuckever, and . . . just forgot to deal with it. Luckily I found it yesterday, and then there was a great flurry of finding $150k in an already very very tight budget, not to mention the fun part of saying to my boss, and his/her boss, and the finance person, "Ummm, people? I fucked up."
It was sort of interesting. The finance person--with whom I have had go-rounds, and whom I still do not entirely trust--was dismayed, but was also very pleased that I HAD found it, and, more important, had called everyone's attention to it now, (a day) before it all goes to the finance committee of the board for approval--insisted that I should not be the one to call it to the attention of my boss's boss. And my boss was fine with it--other than the stress of the steps we have to take to find the money--and my boss's boss was concerned that I not be upset, commenting that it was just a mistake, and finally I have made one (??has s/he not paid attention to my multiple other errors??), and yay on me for catching it now. S/he insisted my boss come find me and tell me not to stress about it.
Wha??
It's especially interesting because, earlier in the day, s/he had sent this completely snotty email complaining that we hadn't sent something s/he requested, and what I sent was still not what s/he wanted, and, as the Muckety-Muck, s/he thought s/he could ask for that. (Actually s/he HAD received what was requested, but apparently failed to understand that, which really made us roll our eyes.) As a result of that exchange, though, I said to my boss that the thing I hate most about that attitude is that it fosters an atmosphere where people are afraid to make mistakes and, when they do, are more likely to cover them up rather than own up to them. So, yes, this person managed to display both sides of the coin in the same eight hours.
I really, really hate when I fuck up like that. Yes, not every day can be a good day. Yes, we all make mistakes. And so on. That doesn't make the finding-and-owning-up process any more pleasant. But the alternative makes me even more queasy. The thought of knowing that we had that big a hole in the budget but not saying anything about it makes my stomach clench even tighter. I mean, seriously; what was I going to do?
And, of course, there's always the temptation to find someone else to blame--why weren't they already in the budget? why didn't anyone else catch it? why are we paying administrative fees if we don't get the help we need?--and I just swallowed it. It was my responsibility; no one else's. And I can also see the systemic changes we need to reduce the chance of it happening again, which is even more important.
The good parts--and there are a few--are that I did catch it in time, and that I've identified a couple of gaps in the system, and, finally, everyone really was very supportive, rather than critical or finger-pointing. But I would really rather not go in today and find more issues like that, thanks so much.
Yeah, I know, I'm the last person in the universe to sign up for a CSA share (a small share, actually, because I'm not trying to feed a family of four). I found one that had a long list of stuff I like (or even love), and, even cooler, they deliver to your door. Yes, there's a charge for that, but it also means I don't have to haul a half a bushel of produce on a bus or el. Total cost is going to be less than $25/week. Okay, still not exactly cheap, but a half a bushel of fresh organic produce, delivered to my door, every week, plus I get to support a local farmer? Sounds good to me.
And, really, it will keep me from wandering through the farmers markets, overloading myself with stuff that then must be hauled and that proceeds to get mauled by bumping around in my bags for the duration of the travel. I'm still going to need to buy fruit and honey, but I'm okay with that. I'm also going to do what I did last year with the blueberries: buy a big wad and then freeze them into small bags for dumping into oatmeal.
I will probably freeze a lot of stuff from this effort, and I"m okay with that, too. I already buy frozen vegetables a lot of the time, precisely to avoid things turning into a science project in the fridge. In short, I wouldn't be surprised if my 30 weeks of produce ends up lasting for a lot of the year. Some of it--winter squash, anyone?--already lends itself to keeping; I still have two butternut squashes from last fall sitting on my counter. Other bits, like herbs, I'll probably chop and freeze as herb pestos; easy enough to hack off a little, and I have found, from my basil pesto operations, that, if you squish the pesto to the bottom of the baggie and squeeze out the air, the pesto log will last for years. Once you start hacking bits off--and break the seal, basically--it can get a little freezer burned, but I've also learned to make the logs relatively small.
I am so tired.
This week has been full of more stress--yesterday I discovered that I had forgotten two providers in our budgets. (All people currently on staff were supposed to already be preloaded in the system, but these two were not, possibly because they started relatively recently; I half-noticed they weren't there last week, but then must have gotten distracted by something else, or figured I couldn't find them, or whatthefuckever, and . . . just forgot to deal with it. Luckily I found it yesterday, and then there was a great flurry of finding $150k in an already very very tight budget, not to mention the fun part of saying to my boss, and his/her boss, and the finance person, "Ummm, people? I fucked up."
It was sort of interesting. The finance person--with whom I have had go-rounds, and whom I still do not entirely trust--was dismayed, but was also very pleased that I HAD found it, and, more important, had called everyone's attention to it now, (a day) before it all goes to the finance committee of the board for approval--insisted that I should not be the one to call it to the attention of my boss's boss. And my boss was fine with it--other than the stress of the steps we have to take to find the money--and my boss's boss was concerned that I not be upset, commenting that it was just a mistake, and finally I have made one (??has s/he not paid attention to my multiple other errors??), and yay on me for catching it now. S/he insisted my boss come find me and tell me not to stress about it.
Wha??
It's especially interesting because, earlier in the day, s/he had sent this completely snotty email complaining that we hadn't sent something s/he requested, and what I sent was still not what s/he wanted, and, as the Muckety-Muck, s/he thought s/he could ask for that. (Actually s/he HAD received what was requested, but apparently failed to understand that, which really made us roll our eyes.) As a result of that exchange, though, I said to my boss that the thing I hate most about that attitude is that it fosters an atmosphere where people are afraid to make mistakes and, when they do, are more likely to cover them up rather than own up to them. So, yes, this person managed to display both sides of the coin in the same eight hours.
I really, really hate when I fuck up like that. Yes, not every day can be a good day. Yes, we all make mistakes. And so on. That doesn't make the finding-and-owning-up process any more pleasant. But the alternative makes me even more queasy. The thought of knowing that we had that big a hole in the budget but not saying anything about it makes my stomach clench even tighter. I mean, seriously; what was I going to do?
And, of course, there's always the temptation to find someone else to blame--why weren't they already in the budget? why didn't anyone else catch it? why are we paying administrative fees if we don't get the help we need?--and I just swallowed it. It was my responsibility; no one else's. And I can also see the systemic changes we need to reduce the chance of it happening again, which is even more important.
The good parts--and there are a few--are that I did catch it in time, and that I've identified a couple of gaps in the system, and, finally, everyone really was very supportive, rather than critical or finger-pointing. But I would really rather not go in today and find more issues like that, thanks so much.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
More Nothing
Okay: we haven't had much food blogging of late, so let's talk recipes, shall we? Last night's concoction is from the Moosewood Low-Fat Cookbook, which may be my single favorite cookbook ever; it's certainly in the top five. The recipe is for Lentil Sambar or some such, and it includes lentils, cauliflower, sweet potatoes, and a bunch of spices. The pot I used is quite large and does not have a lid, so the potatoes and cauliflower took forever to cook, but it was quite tasty.
I didn't have the mango peach chutney (recipe in the book, too), but I had some apricot ginger chutney in the fridge--only four years old--and threw some of that on it, and I added some brie while I was at it, thinking the ammonia of the brie and the creaminess would make a nice complement to the warmth of the spices. I liked it a lot, because of the complex flavors, but it may not have been to everyone's taste; hard to say.
Tonight's dish, from the same cookbook, is supposed to be garlicky black-eyed peas and greens (kale, in my case, though you could use collards or mustard greens or presumably even beet greens or swiss chard). You cook the beans with some cloves of garlic, saute the greens quickly with more garlic, mix them, serve over rice.
I, of course, must fiddle with the recipe. I added some fresh ginger to the pot in which the beans and garlic cooked, and I added a diced sweet potato (I had bought two, but they were large, so one was enough last night0 and an onion to the pan in which the greens were cooked, and served tonight's over whole wheat pasta instead of rice. It was quite tasty, at least to me.
Which is always an issue on some level. I put combinations together that I wouldn't necessarily serve to anyone else. Friend is pretty willing to try my experiments, and, for that matter, Chuck was, too, but I try not to come up with anything too crazy if I know someone else is going to be eating it. I think part of that is because I don't necessarily make the same thing the same way twice--the brie was quite good in last night's dinner, but I wouldn't go out and buy brie just for that; same with the chutney. I happened to have both around, and I thought the flavors and textures would complement the curried cauliflower, and I was right, but it would have been quite tasty on its own. Tonight I ended up with more of the beans/potatos mix than I had greens to go with it, so I froze some of the beans/potatos in separate containers and I'll mix it with spinach or whatever I have handy when I make it for dinner, or I could have the beans/potatos over rice. And so on.
Part of the point of yesterday's and today's cooking was to fill the freezer with lunches. I'd depleted most of my stores before the move, to reduce the amount of food that had to be moved, but it's time to stock up again and start eating (and exercising!!) in a more healthy manner.
This weekend's other challenge was convincing my mom to take my dad to an acupuncturist. His full-body rash continues; it can only be kept under any kind of control when he's taking steroids, and, even then, he's itching all the time. It's been going on for six months, and no one seems to know what it is or what to do about it, and it's getting him down. I pointed out to my mom that it wouldn't hurt him--it might not help, but it won't hurt--and that western medicine hadn't actually done much for him so far. And I think I got through to her. I'm going to try to find a few accredited people near where they live (the google is a wonderful deity), and I think she's ready to go for it.
The biggest problem is that the person who sounds like he might be best is Taiwanese--which is a problem only because, if the website is any indication, his English isn't terribly fluent. My dad is already nearly deaf, even with hearing aids, so thick accents pose an additional difficulty in understanding. Given that it's a modality with which he has no experience, understanding is probably key. The other part of that is that nearly everyone will want to give him herbs, and I can tell you that ain't happening.
I'll keep looking, though; the fact that my mom is agreeing with it is a sign of just how bad it's gotten for my dad. And, really, it would be nice if something helped.
The other thing I got, from my acupuncturist, is a list of foods that supposedly help with "yin deficiency." I was laughing with my mom today, because a number of things on the list are not things that my dad is going to be eating (he loathes asparagus, for example, and I don't expect my dad to be eating mung bean sprouts any time either). But other stuff, yeah, so I'll send the list to my mom, along with some dead sea salts (for bathing) and some cream with calendula in it. Cross your fingers that something works.
I didn't have the mango peach chutney (recipe in the book, too), but I had some apricot ginger chutney in the fridge--only four years old--and threw some of that on it, and I added some brie while I was at it, thinking the ammonia of the brie and the creaminess would make a nice complement to the warmth of the spices. I liked it a lot, because of the complex flavors, but it may not have been to everyone's taste; hard to say.
Tonight's dish, from the same cookbook, is supposed to be garlicky black-eyed peas and greens (kale, in my case, though you could use collards or mustard greens or presumably even beet greens or swiss chard). You cook the beans with some cloves of garlic, saute the greens quickly with more garlic, mix them, serve over rice.
I, of course, must fiddle with the recipe. I added some fresh ginger to the pot in which the beans and garlic cooked, and I added a diced sweet potato (I had bought two, but they were large, so one was enough last night0 and an onion to the pan in which the greens were cooked, and served tonight's over whole wheat pasta instead of rice. It was quite tasty, at least to me.
Which is always an issue on some level. I put combinations together that I wouldn't necessarily serve to anyone else. Friend is pretty willing to try my experiments, and, for that matter, Chuck was, too, but I try not to come up with anything too crazy if I know someone else is going to be eating it. I think part of that is because I don't necessarily make the same thing the same way twice--the brie was quite good in last night's dinner, but I wouldn't go out and buy brie just for that; same with the chutney. I happened to have both around, and I thought the flavors and textures would complement the curried cauliflower, and I was right, but it would have been quite tasty on its own. Tonight I ended up with more of the beans/potatos mix than I had greens to go with it, so I froze some of the beans/potatos in separate containers and I'll mix it with spinach or whatever I have handy when I make it for dinner, or I could have the beans/potatos over rice. And so on.
Part of the point of yesterday's and today's cooking was to fill the freezer with lunches. I'd depleted most of my stores before the move, to reduce the amount of food that had to be moved, but it's time to stock up again and start eating (and exercising!!) in a more healthy manner.
This weekend's other challenge was convincing my mom to take my dad to an acupuncturist. His full-body rash continues; it can only be kept under any kind of control when he's taking steroids, and, even then, he's itching all the time. It's been going on for six months, and no one seems to know what it is or what to do about it, and it's getting him down. I pointed out to my mom that it wouldn't hurt him--it might not help, but it won't hurt--and that western medicine hadn't actually done much for him so far. And I think I got through to her. I'm going to try to find a few accredited people near where they live (the google is a wonderful deity), and I think she's ready to go for it.
The biggest problem is that the person who sounds like he might be best is Taiwanese--which is a problem only because, if the website is any indication, his English isn't terribly fluent. My dad is already nearly deaf, even with hearing aids, so thick accents pose an additional difficulty in understanding. Given that it's a modality with which he has no experience, understanding is probably key. The other part of that is that nearly everyone will want to give him herbs, and I can tell you that ain't happening.
I'll keep looking, though; the fact that my mom is agreeing with it is a sign of just how bad it's gotten for my dad. And, really, it would be nice if something helped.
The other thing I got, from my acupuncturist, is a list of foods that supposedly help with "yin deficiency." I was laughing with my mom today, because a number of things on the list are not things that my dad is going to be eating (he loathes asparagus, for example, and I don't expect my dad to be eating mung bean sprouts any time either). But other stuff, yeah, so I'll send the list to my mom, along with some dead sea salts (for bathing) and some cream with calendula in it. Cross your fingers that something works.
Disorderly Profit
Little by little . . .
I keep hacking away, and I'm down to one box, and a couple of Areas of Concern; but I did a bunch of stuff yesterday and even already this morning. I already did two loads of laundry and cleaned the bathrooms this morning, so I don't feel a huge need to do a lot of other stuff today. I have a small editing job, and, if I get ambitious, maybe I'll knock out some of that and get it out of the way before the hockey game tonight. (No I don't have a ticket, but I sure wish I did--the cheapest resale tickets I've seen are about $150 a ticket, in the highest level of the stadium, and I don't want to see it in person THAT badly.)
I've been hearing this commercial lately for something labeled "shift work disorder," and I've decided it's the apotheosis of capitalism. People who work variable shifts, especially if some of them are night shifts, often have trouble sleeping or staying awake, and shift work can seriously fuck with your circadian rhythms, apparently. No surprise there. And some organizations (including the military, I believe) have done some research on this; I have vague memories of reading about police departments that structured their shift changes to minimize the havoc on people's systems, which makes sense.
But, when push comes to shove, on some level, it shouldn't be a surprise if shift work trashes people's circadian rhythms. "Shift work" is something you can really only do when you have the ability to see at night--so it's only a couple hundred years, at the most, that people could do it at all, and, therefore, something to which we would not be particularly adapted. The real push for it comes from a desire to not shut down large machinery; you can make more stuff if you keep the machines going. In other words, the "disorder" comes not from some illness or disability inherent in the system, but, rather, from the conditions of Modern Capitalist Life. Likewise, the "cure" for this disorder isn't something like "stop expecting people to constantly change their sleep-work schedules," or even "structure shift work in ways that minimize the effects on circadian rhythms." Oh, no--the "cure" is . . . a drug! In other words, a profit-making item, another product of the very system that causes shift-work disorder.
Really, it couldn't be more perfect: capitalism causes the disorder and then creates a substance that can be sold to treat it.
I'm half-tempted to go look at furniture today; there's a resale shop a few blocks away where I might find something. I've been contemplating having a Morris chair made for me; I found a guy online that does it, and it is Very Not Cheap, but I could have it made to my specifications--the size that would fit best in the sunroom, for example, and the type of arms I want, and so on. K found a somewhat-more-local place, as well, but they're not THAT much cheaper, for one thing, and, for another, it's not clear how much I could specify. But, really Not Cheap, no matter how I go with this.
I may decide to do it, but I think I need to contemplate it for awhile, see how the budget fares in the next few months, things like that. I do not want to make the classic move of buying a place and then emptying the bank account to buy furniture and decorations and such. In the meanwhile, however, I need more places to sit. I have these old wicker chairs of Chuck's in the sunroom, and they are really uncomfortable, which makes sitting there less enjoyable as well. I need a small table in the entryway, for keys and mail and the like. I need more seating in the living room--all I have there is the couch. I need a table next to the couch.
I am perfectly happy to buy decent used stuff for most of those needs, I just have to haul my ass around to find the stuff.
I keep hacking away, and I'm down to one box, and a couple of Areas of Concern; but I did a bunch of stuff yesterday and even already this morning. I already did two loads of laundry and cleaned the bathrooms this morning, so I don't feel a huge need to do a lot of other stuff today. I have a small editing job, and, if I get ambitious, maybe I'll knock out some of that and get it out of the way before the hockey game tonight. (No I don't have a ticket, but I sure wish I did--the cheapest resale tickets I've seen are about $150 a ticket, in the highest level of the stadium, and I don't want to see it in person THAT badly.)
I've been hearing this commercial lately for something labeled "shift work disorder," and I've decided it's the apotheosis of capitalism. People who work variable shifts, especially if some of them are night shifts, often have trouble sleeping or staying awake, and shift work can seriously fuck with your circadian rhythms, apparently. No surprise there. And some organizations (including the military, I believe) have done some research on this; I have vague memories of reading about police departments that structured their shift changes to minimize the havoc on people's systems, which makes sense.
But, when push comes to shove, on some level, it shouldn't be a surprise if shift work trashes people's circadian rhythms. "Shift work" is something you can really only do when you have the ability to see at night--so it's only a couple hundred years, at the most, that people could do it at all, and, therefore, something to which we would not be particularly adapted. The real push for it comes from a desire to not shut down large machinery; you can make more stuff if you keep the machines going. In other words, the "disorder" comes not from some illness or disability inherent in the system, but, rather, from the conditions of Modern Capitalist Life. Likewise, the "cure" for this disorder isn't something like "stop expecting people to constantly change their sleep-work schedules," or even "structure shift work in ways that minimize the effects on circadian rhythms." Oh, no--the "cure" is . . . a drug! In other words, a profit-making item, another product of the very system that causes shift-work disorder.
Really, it couldn't be more perfect: capitalism causes the disorder and then creates a substance that can be sold to treat it.
I'm half-tempted to go look at furniture today; there's a resale shop a few blocks away where I might find something. I've been contemplating having a Morris chair made for me; I found a guy online that does it, and it is Very Not Cheap, but I could have it made to my specifications--the size that would fit best in the sunroom, for example, and the type of arms I want, and so on. K found a somewhat-more-local place, as well, but they're not THAT much cheaper, for one thing, and, for another, it's not clear how much I could specify. But, really Not Cheap, no matter how I go with this.
I may decide to do it, but I think I need to contemplate it for awhile, see how the budget fares in the next few months, things like that. I do not want to make the classic move of buying a place and then emptying the bank account to buy furniture and decorations and such. In the meanwhile, however, I need more places to sit. I have these old wicker chairs of Chuck's in the sunroom, and they are really uncomfortable, which makes sitting there less enjoyable as well. I need a small table in the entryway, for keys and mail and the like. I need more seating in the living room--all I have there is the couch. I need a table next to the couch.
I am perfectly happy to buy decent used stuff for most of those needs, I just have to haul my ass around to find the stuff.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Cheese and Crackers
and strawberries; that was tonight's dinner. Tasty, too--and I"m glad I found the strawberries in the fridge before they turned into a science project. I'd completely forgotten that I bought them.
Let's see; where are we?
Well, to his considerable credit, Chuck came back to me (via email) this week in an effort to keep trying to find a way for me to see CK. Which I appreciate tremendously; it isn't any easier for him than it is for me. The reality is, he has never had to allow this or make room for it, and the fact that he continues to do so is a huge credit to him.
At work, the budget stuff continues. I had put together a worst-case budget, which put us at a deficit; my boss's boss cannot take a deficit budget to the board. But a little tweak here, a little ootch there, a slightly more optimistic forecast someplace else, and I'm hoping that will do it. I have tomorrow to make it happen, so it'll be another long-ass day. On the other hand, I managed to work out again tonight, so at least I"m getting a little of that in the mix, too.
Meanwhile, though, the hockey game is about to start, plus I need to get a drawing done for the tile class; I need to have something to work on tomorrow.
Let's see; where are we?
Well, to his considerable credit, Chuck came back to me (via email) this week in an effort to keep trying to find a way for me to see CK. Which I appreciate tremendously; it isn't any easier for him than it is for me. The reality is, he has never had to allow this or make room for it, and the fact that he continues to do so is a huge credit to him.
At work, the budget stuff continues. I had put together a worst-case budget, which put us at a deficit; my boss's boss cannot take a deficit budget to the board. But a little tweak here, a little ootch there, a slightly more optimistic forecast someplace else, and I'm hoping that will do it. I have tomorrow to make it happen, so it'll be another long-ass day. On the other hand, I managed to work out again tonight, so at least I"m getting a little of that in the mix, too.
Meanwhile, though, the hockey game is about to start, plus I need to get a drawing done for the tile class; I need to have something to work on tomorrow.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Outta the Way
Although I have eaten in the new space (albeit mostly things like bagels with peanut butter and cups of tea), and even cooked one meal, tonight was the first time I cooked a meal and ate it at the dining room table. So yes, I do continue to make incremental progress, as noted this morning. This weekend I need to clean, and finish the sorting process, and probably do some laundry as well. And some cooking; part of the reason for the massive shopping expedition was to make some food, but I'll have to go back through my cookbooks to remember which recipes I'd picked to make. It'll be good, though, and now that the freezer is plugged in and working, I can fill it up with portions of lunches and make my way back to healthier eating.
The big dilemma at work lately is that I'm kind of being forced to disparage someone else's work, which I really really really prefer not to do. But I've reached a point where I can either get the work done or spend a bunch of time explaining stuff to someone with the work remaining undone (and it's stuff this person should already know), and the work really must get done. It's so frustrating, because I like this person personally, and also because I really do not like being in the position of having to point a finger. My first priority is to get the job done, in a way that works for our programs; if someone cannot help with that process, then just get out of the way and don't waste my time.
It's difficult, though, because I also know this person's job is in jeopardy, precisely because this person's boss expects this person to provide more assistance to our program. I feel like I'm caught between covering up for this person--which puts a lot more pressure on me--or basically being relatively realistic about this person's lack of assistance. I hate it. There isn't any solution here that is going to make me feel good, but, at some point, I have a choice between saying that this person provides the assistance we need--which is not true at all--or not, even as I know that saying "not" puts the person's job in jeopardy.
If it didn't cause extra work for me, I probably wouldn't say much one way or the other, but the reality is that the lack of assistance puts an additional burden on all of us. Especially me, but I'm not the only one. So, in short, I'll keep my mouth shut to the upper levels, as long as it doesn't burden me or others in the program, and I won't go out of my way to complain in any case, except behind closed doors with, say, my boss, when I'm just letting off steam, but it's reaching the point where I can't cover it up any longer without making myself look incompetent--or, at least, more incompetent than I can make myself look.
I find that I work best in an environment where, and, as much as I can, I try to foster an environment where it is expected that mistakes will occur, and that people try to put systems or procedures in place to catch those mistakes at early stages of any given process, where the effects are less likely to be dire. Catch my mistakes in the budget now, before anything's finalized, rather than eight months from now when a whole bunch of other assumptions have been hung on that budget. Analyze my formulae now, find the weak spots; let's figure out which numbers we need to monitor most closely to make sure we don't get into trouble. Taste the dough now, while it's still in the mixer and the salt I forgot can be added.
Anyway. Time to go to bed, so I can put in twelve hours tomorrow if necessary. It's taken me way too long to write this, because I had to delete so much detail, but also because I've been watching hockey as I go. Go Hawks!
The big dilemma at work lately is that I'm kind of being forced to disparage someone else's work, which I really really really prefer not to do. But I've reached a point where I can either get the work done or spend a bunch of time explaining stuff to someone with the work remaining undone (and it's stuff this person should already know), and the work really must get done. It's so frustrating, because I like this person personally, and also because I really do not like being in the position of having to point a finger. My first priority is to get the job done, in a way that works for our programs; if someone cannot help with that process, then just get out of the way and don't waste my time.
It's difficult, though, because I also know this person's job is in jeopardy, precisely because this person's boss expects this person to provide more assistance to our program. I feel like I'm caught between covering up for this person--which puts a lot more pressure on me--or basically being relatively realistic about this person's lack of assistance. I hate it. There isn't any solution here that is going to make me feel good, but, at some point, I have a choice between saying that this person provides the assistance we need--which is not true at all--or not, even as I know that saying "not" puts the person's job in jeopardy.
If it didn't cause extra work for me, I probably wouldn't say much one way or the other, but the reality is that the lack of assistance puts an additional burden on all of us. Especially me, but I'm not the only one. So, in short, I'll keep my mouth shut to the upper levels, as long as it doesn't burden me or others in the program, and I won't go out of my way to complain in any case, except behind closed doors with, say, my boss, when I'm just letting off steam, but it's reaching the point where I can't cover it up any longer without making myself look incompetent--or, at least, more incompetent than I can make myself look.
I find that I work best in an environment where, and, as much as I can, I try to foster an environment where it is expected that mistakes will occur, and that people try to put systems or procedures in place to catch those mistakes at early stages of any given process, where the effects are less likely to be dire. Catch my mistakes in the budget now, before anything's finalized, rather than eight months from now when a whole bunch of other assumptions have been hung on that budget. Analyze my formulae now, find the weak spots; let's figure out which numbers we need to monitor most closely to make sure we don't get into trouble. Taste the dough now, while it's still in the mixer and the salt I forgot can be added.
Anyway. Time to go to bed, so I can put in twelve hours tomorrow if necessary. It's taken me way too long to write this, because I had to delete so much detail, but also because I've been watching hockey as I go. Go Hawks!
Piles of Crap
Budget Heck took up the vast majority of my energy last week, and an acrimonious exchange with Chuck added that special something. There's nothing to restrain him now, and, of course, I actually want something from him (a relationship with his son) but don't have anything he wants in return, so he often doesn't hesitate to spew.
Not that he held back all the time when we were together, mind you. One of the things I liked least about that was that I found myself torn between engaging in the stupid back-and-forth, and trying to defuse or disengage from it, to try to work toward something positive--it was a lot of work (in which he participated, too), and, not being anywhere near perfect, I engaged in the back-and-forth way, way more often than I wanted. I really fucking hated it; it brought out the worst in me, and the worst in him, and any pattern that does that isn't a good one. I had a hope, a fantasy, I suppose, that we would continue to be able to make space for each other, to work toward something positive in our own and each other's lives. And, really, we did do that, much of the time--or, at least, I thought we did--or I wouldn't have married him. Fool that I am, I even thought we might find a way to do that after he left me, and even after we divorced.
Which, sometimes I think we're doing, until the next wake-up call.
Ah, well. It's depressing as all hell, but I can't control Chuck's behavior. And, really, at this point, I don't have to deal with it much, either. I have continued to do so, in order to try to see CK at least once in awhile, in the hope that things would eventually improve. But Chuck continues to insist that I don't really care about CK (and then he lists a litany of reasons why), and then ends up with how he needs to Protect His Son. Basically, he's convincing himself that I don't care about CK, not really, so it's okay for Chuck to withdraw him. And no matter what I do, I guarantee you that, in Chuck's eyes, I'll eventually fuck up somehow. It's been made especially painful because, as I unpack, I stumble across pictures, or little drawings, or the "letter" that CK wrote when he was first learning his letters, and each of them is a little stab, another reminder.
Anyway.
As I continue to pick away at getting things organized (or, at least, as organized as my things will ever get) I'm finding (a) multiple skeins of embroidery thread (which is what I use for my needlepoint, so, when I finish a piece, the odd skeins are still around--and not put away, in a single place, oh no, not THAT), and (b) endless scraps of paper on which recipes are scribbled, printed, or printed and amended. Typically, they're not labeled, especially the scribbled bits, so I have to skim the ingredients and see if I can tell what the formula is for. I'm better at that than I might have predicted (I suppose I should be, given my experience), but still. I'm making piles of those things, toward the end of eventually putting them away. A third thing I'm gathering: the little knobby things that have fallen off my dining room chairs. And a fourth thing: blank paper of various sorts.
Yesterday K took me on a Massive Shopping Expedition. She met me at Whole Paycheck (I got there when it opened, and arranged for her to pick me up an hour later), and then we stopped at Target (paper shredder; hangers; cutting board for the tile-making class) and then the Container Store (a.k.a. the gayest store in the universe), where I got a bunch of stacking bins for clothes and for paper of various sorts.
Saturday I unpacked nearly all the books, and I did the rest of them yesterday, more or less. This morning, while I wait for the security people to show up and activate my alarm system, I went through more crap in the second bedroom, which has become the junk room. You know how, when you move, the last few boxes are all the little crap, all the things you don't have time to sort, or you don't quite know whether you want them but you don't feel like taking the time to think about it? Yeah, well, those are also the last things to put away at the other end, too, it turns out, and no surprise there.
But I'm getting there. I need furniture, and I have some ideas about that, but I don't want to empty the bank account getting it, so I'm trying to come up with some intermediate solutions until I sort it out. So, yes, a virtual housewarming and tour will be soon, now that my decorating theme is no longer only "still-packed boxes of crap, with other boxes opened and spilling out on the floor."
Not that he held back all the time when we were together, mind you. One of the things I liked least about that was that I found myself torn between engaging in the stupid back-and-forth, and trying to defuse or disengage from it, to try to work toward something positive--it was a lot of work (in which he participated, too), and, not being anywhere near perfect, I engaged in the back-and-forth way, way more often than I wanted. I really fucking hated it; it brought out the worst in me, and the worst in him, and any pattern that does that isn't a good one. I had a hope, a fantasy, I suppose, that we would continue to be able to make space for each other, to work toward something positive in our own and each other's lives. And, really, we did do that, much of the time--or, at least, I thought we did--or I wouldn't have married him. Fool that I am, I even thought we might find a way to do that after he left me, and even after we divorced.
Which, sometimes I think we're doing, until the next wake-up call.
Ah, well. It's depressing as all hell, but I can't control Chuck's behavior. And, really, at this point, I don't have to deal with it much, either. I have continued to do so, in order to try to see CK at least once in awhile, in the hope that things would eventually improve. But Chuck continues to insist that I don't really care about CK (and then he lists a litany of reasons why), and then ends up with how he needs to Protect His Son. Basically, he's convincing himself that I don't care about CK, not really, so it's okay for Chuck to withdraw him. And no matter what I do, I guarantee you that, in Chuck's eyes, I'll eventually fuck up somehow. It's been made especially painful because, as I unpack, I stumble across pictures, or little drawings, or the "letter" that CK wrote when he was first learning his letters, and each of them is a little stab, another reminder.
Anyway.
As I continue to pick away at getting things organized (or, at least, as organized as my things will ever get) I'm finding (a) multiple skeins of embroidery thread (which is what I use for my needlepoint, so, when I finish a piece, the odd skeins are still around--and not put away, in a single place, oh no, not THAT), and (b) endless scraps of paper on which recipes are scribbled, printed, or printed and amended. Typically, they're not labeled, especially the scribbled bits, so I have to skim the ingredients and see if I can tell what the formula is for. I'm better at that than I might have predicted (I suppose I should be, given my experience), but still. I'm making piles of those things, toward the end of eventually putting them away. A third thing I'm gathering: the little knobby things that have fallen off my dining room chairs. And a fourth thing: blank paper of various sorts.
Yesterday K took me on a Massive Shopping Expedition. She met me at Whole Paycheck (I got there when it opened, and arranged for her to pick me up an hour later), and then we stopped at Target (paper shredder; hangers; cutting board for the tile-making class) and then the Container Store (a.k.a. the gayest store in the universe), where I got a bunch of stacking bins for clothes and for paper of various sorts.
Saturday I unpacked nearly all the books, and I did the rest of them yesterday, more or less. This morning, while I wait for the security people to show up and activate my alarm system, I went through more crap in the second bedroom, which has become the junk room. You know how, when you move, the last few boxes are all the little crap, all the things you don't have time to sort, or you don't quite know whether you want them but you don't feel like taking the time to think about it? Yeah, well, those are also the last things to put away at the other end, too, it turns out, and no surprise there.
But I'm getting there. I need furniture, and I have some ideas about that, but I don't want to empty the bank account getting it, so I'm trying to come up with some intermediate solutions until I sort it out. So, yes, a virtual housewarming and tour will be soon, now that my decorating theme is no longer only "still-packed boxes of crap, with other boxes opened and spilling out on the floor."
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