Two phrases that I'm trying to use less: "Thank you" and "I'm sorry". Sounds weird, doesn't it? Like I'm intentionally trying to be less-mannered or something? Actually, I'm just trying to return their relevance. At both of my jobs, I have to thank customers constantly, and that's OK. When I am a customer myself, I appreciate being thanked for my business, my patience, or whatever. Sometimes I have to apologize as well-- wrong drink made, check on hold for a week, long line. That's OK too. It's just part of the job and I take some pleasure in being professional and courteous. But in my personal life, I sometimes act like an employee out of habit.
I find myself apologizing to strangers over nothing. Do you know what I mean? When someone else bumps into you in a crowded place, and you instinctively burst out, "Sorry!" I accidentally thank people for *not* holding the door open for me: when they do that half-assed thing where you sort of shove the door open a little further behind you, but it's too soon and the door still slams into the next person? So that it *looks* as though you held the door but in reality you did not? I'm so used to thanking people that I say 'thanks' anyway, and they can't hear me, because they're already inside the store. I want to save "I'm sorry" for real apologies, things that I'm sorry for, things I regret. I want "I'm sorry" to mean something and not be a trivial nothing that I throw out into the open continuously. I want to thank people only when they've done something for me, so that "Thank you" implies real gratitude and not just routine 'manners'. I want to say both with sincerity, meaning and eye contact with the other party. I want to reclaim true manners and get rid of the false, silly stuff masquerading as politeness.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
House Dreams
Yesterday, Don and I decided to forget all the stuff we had to do, and take a drive instead. So instead of laundry and cleaning (our usual Sunday routine) we drove all around the Virginia countryside, which is lovely even in winter. We drove up into the mountains where it was snowing, past farms, orchards, vineyards. With work so hectic for both of us right now, it felt imperative to take some real quality time together. In the car we can talk uninterrupted by the TV (or a movie or the Internet or laundry); plan for the future, daydream together.
We are really thinking about moving out of town when we make the quantum leap from renting to buying, so we were casually looking at anything for sale, too. Moving to Virginia has put a real hold on our home-buying plans, because the real estate around here is so much more expensive than where we were in Texas. There, you can get a decent house in a decent neighborhood for $100,000-ish. For twice that, you can get a really nice house in an even better neighborhood. It's a cheap place to live. Don and I could afford something like that; we have enough saved to make a sizeable downpayment. Here... yeah, right! We just can't afford a $400,000 house. Or a $300,000. or a $250,000. You get the picture. Everybody wants to live here, and it makes land expensive. But homes are a little less expensive out of town. It would mean a long commute (although Don says that he wouldn't mind that.) And it would mean the kind of isolation that living away from a city might bring.
I'm a cities-and-suburbs kind of girl. Never lived in the country. Never lived more than a mile from a restaurant, gas station, coffee shop. I like living a life that is in contact with other people, even the most casual kind of contact. On the other hand, I have (very cliched) daydreams about living "out there". Being able to do things like have a clothes-line, chickens*, and more than one dog. I would love to be able to play my piano without checking to see if our neighbor is home, first. But, I wonder what the people are like, who live away from town. I don't know if it's a stereotype or not, but it seems like they would be more conservative, old-fashioned, and religious? Or is that outdated? Maybe the countryside is full of crunchy-granola hippie liberals now. In which case, yay!
Could I live 30 miles from the nearest Starbucks? Is there a house out there somewhere for under 200,000 dollars, that still has a decent roof and foundation? We're pretty much 'over' renting. We would have bought a house in Texas if it weren't for the fact that we knew we'd be leaving within a few years.
*I've always wanted to have a chicken. But I know that once she's too old to lay eggs, we would have to retire her on pension, not turn her into dinner. Don says I would never be a real farmer. I have no idea how keeping chickens and having big dogs would work other than really good fencing.
We are really thinking about moving out of town when we make the quantum leap from renting to buying, so we were casually looking at anything for sale, too. Moving to Virginia has put a real hold on our home-buying plans, because the real estate around here is so much more expensive than where we were in Texas. There, you can get a decent house in a decent neighborhood for $100,000-ish. For twice that, you can get a really nice house in an even better neighborhood. It's a cheap place to live. Don and I could afford something like that; we have enough saved to make a sizeable downpayment. Here... yeah, right! We just can't afford a $400,000 house. Or a $300,000. or a $250,000. You get the picture. Everybody wants to live here, and it makes land expensive. But homes are a little less expensive out of town. It would mean a long commute (although Don says that he wouldn't mind that.) And it would mean the kind of isolation that living away from a city might bring.
I'm a cities-and-suburbs kind of girl. Never lived in the country. Never lived more than a mile from a restaurant, gas station, coffee shop. I like living a life that is in contact with other people, even the most casual kind of contact. On the other hand, I have (very cliched) daydreams about living "out there". Being able to do things like have a clothes-line, chickens*, and more than one dog. I would love to be able to play my piano without checking to see if our neighbor is home, first. But, I wonder what the people are like, who live away from town. I don't know if it's a stereotype or not, but it seems like they would be more conservative, old-fashioned, and religious? Or is that outdated? Maybe the countryside is full of crunchy-granola hippie liberals now. In which case, yay!
Could I live 30 miles from the nearest Starbucks? Is there a house out there somewhere for under 200,000 dollars, that still has a decent roof and foundation? We're pretty much 'over' renting. We would have bought a house in Texas if it weren't for the fact that we knew we'd be leaving within a few years.
*I've always wanted to have a chicken. But I know that once she's too old to lay eggs, we would have to retire her on pension, not turn her into dinner. Don says I would never be a real farmer. I have no idea how keeping chickens and having big dogs would work other than really good fencing.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Anti V-Day Rant
Wow! I just checked my calendar and discovered that it's time for my annual anti-Valentine's Day rant! I can't believe I forgot.
Main Points:
1. If you are part of a couple, there is intense pressure to act in certain ways, all of which involve spending a lot of money: candy, flowers, jewelry, dinners out. While I like all of those things, I don't like being dicated to by our commercial culture about when and why to get them. Don and I would rather choose when to be "romantic", and we create our own definitions! Romance doesn't come with a price tag.
2. If you are single, Valentine's Day makes you feel pretty shitty. It really rubs your lack of coupledom in your face, even if you're happy to not be in a relationship. There is an equally commercial reason for this. The message is, 'you don't need boyfriend/husband to buy you chocolates or jewelry, you can buy it yourself!' As long as it's still getting bought. "Girls only" nights, alcohol, and chocolates especially are marketed as the "be your own Valentine".
3. Valentine's Day is essentially sexist and unbalanced. It is seen as a day for the men to buy stuff for the women. Gifts going in the other direction are generally a token, like a card. The implicit message is that the sex later will make up the difference, reinforcing the tired stereotype that men want it, women don't... yeah, right. This is why single women are seen by society as "missing out" on V-Day, while single men are seen as lucky for escaping the whole shebang. I like a little more balance between myself and Don. My birthday is all about me. His is about him. But our anniversary and etc are even-- there's no emphasis on giver/givee.
4. The commercial powers-that-be are spreading V-Day's influence, so that now it's seen as normal to give Valentines (cards, candy, etc.) to parents, kids, friends, siblings... it doesn't subtract from the romantic element of the holiday but creates an even wider buying field.
Main Points:
1. If you are part of a couple, there is intense pressure to act in certain ways, all of which involve spending a lot of money: candy, flowers, jewelry, dinners out. While I like all of those things, I don't like being dicated to by our commercial culture about when and why to get them. Don and I would rather choose when to be "romantic", and we create our own definitions! Romance doesn't come with a price tag.
2. If you are single, Valentine's Day makes you feel pretty shitty. It really rubs your lack of coupledom in your face, even if you're happy to not be in a relationship. There is an equally commercial reason for this. The message is, 'you don't need boyfriend/husband to buy you chocolates or jewelry, you can buy it yourself!' As long as it's still getting bought. "Girls only" nights, alcohol, and chocolates especially are marketed as the "be your own Valentine".
3. Valentine's Day is essentially sexist and unbalanced. It is seen as a day for the men to buy stuff for the women. Gifts going in the other direction are generally a token, like a card. The implicit message is that the sex later will make up the difference, reinforcing the tired stereotype that men want it, women don't... yeah, right. This is why single women are seen by society as "missing out" on V-Day, while single men are seen as lucky for escaping the whole shebang. I like a little more balance between myself and Don. My birthday is all about me. His is about him. But our anniversary and etc are even-- there's no emphasis on giver/givee.
4. The commercial powers-that-be are spreading V-Day's influence, so that now it's seen as normal to give Valentines (cards, candy, etc.) to parents, kids, friends, siblings... it doesn't subtract from the romantic element of the holiday but creates an even wider buying field.
Jargon
When I'm at work, I wonder sometimes if I've become too removed from the average customer, too knowledgeable about banking to understand where they are coming from. I worry that maybe this all seems so normal to me, so logical, that I don't get why THEY don't get it. I try to remember what I knew about THE SYSTEM back before I was a part of it. Because honestly, how hard is this? I deal with the same problems over and over again.
Losing your debit card. Happens to everyone. Has happened to me in the past. We don't charge anything for new debit cards, even though it's a pain to block the old one, order a fresh one, give out a temporary one. But I think there should be a reasonable limit to how many times someone can lose their card. I think that there should be a one-new-card-per-year free, and any losses after that should get charged. Because who loses two debit cards in, say, three months?
Overdrafts. Is this as hard to comprehend as the customers make it seem? I can't remember. I know that before I worked at the bank, I did overdraw my account. But, I understood WHY that happened. I knew that it was my own error and not the banks. Here's how banking works, and honestly, not that hard, right?
You put money in the account. You then spend the money, either with checks or with debit-card purchases. Responsible people keep some kind of record. The rest of us use online banking combined with a healthy just-in-case-I-forgot-something balance. If you are going to spend close to the edge (that is, spend right up to the whole balance of your account) then you better be damned sure that you're keeping track of your purchases, because here's the major catch: they don't always show up right away. If you write someone a check, they have six months to cash it, so don't forget that you wrote that check. Store purchases frequently take a few days to "post", so if you go to Starbucks on Tuesday, that may not be reflected in your balance Wednesday. YOU have to remember that you already spent that money. Let's say your balance at first is 100.00. You spend 5.00 at McDonalds. You check your balance, say at an ATM, and it says, "$100.00". You then buy concert tickets for 99.99. The next day, your balance is negative 24.99. Because you over-drew your account with the concert tickets, and got charged an over-draft fee on top of that.
What I'm trying to figure out is, have I been doing this for so long that it seems too obvious? Every day I have to explain that no, it's not a bank error, it's a customer error. YOU are the only person whose responsibility it is to not over-spend your account. The bank did not "let" your concert-ticket purchase "go through" in an attempt to "nail" you for the overdraft charge. The bank does not know about your McDonald's 5.00 purchase until it hard-posts to your account, which could be days later.
Sometimes I feel like one of those computer-expert-people on the phone, who start yabbering on in computer jargon as though you can just follow along. But banking... everybody does it. These people, they come to the bank at least once a week. Why do they look at the deposit slip as though it's a foreign item?
Losing your debit card. Happens to everyone. Has happened to me in the past. We don't charge anything for new debit cards, even though it's a pain to block the old one, order a fresh one, give out a temporary one. But I think there should be a reasonable limit to how many times someone can lose their card. I think that there should be a one-new-card-per-year free, and any losses after that should get charged. Because who loses two debit cards in, say, three months?
Overdrafts. Is this as hard to comprehend as the customers make it seem? I can't remember. I know that before I worked at the bank, I did overdraw my account. But, I understood WHY that happened. I knew that it was my own error and not the banks. Here's how banking works, and honestly, not that hard, right?
You put money in the account. You then spend the money, either with checks or with debit-card purchases. Responsible people keep some kind of record. The rest of us use online banking combined with a healthy just-in-case-I-forgot-something balance. If you are going to spend close to the edge (that is, spend right up to the whole balance of your account) then you better be damned sure that you're keeping track of your purchases, because here's the major catch: they don't always show up right away. If you write someone a check, they have six months to cash it, so don't forget that you wrote that check. Store purchases frequently take a few days to "post", so if you go to Starbucks on Tuesday, that may not be reflected in your balance Wednesday. YOU have to remember that you already spent that money. Let's say your balance at first is 100.00. You spend 5.00 at McDonalds. You check your balance, say at an ATM, and it says, "$100.00". You then buy concert tickets for 99.99. The next day, your balance is negative 24.99. Because you over-drew your account with the concert tickets, and got charged an over-draft fee on top of that.
What I'm trying to figure out is, have I been doing this for so long that it seems too obvious? Every day I have to explain that no, it's not a bank error, it's a customer error. YOU are the only person whose responsibility it is to not over-spend your account. The bank did not "let" your concert-ticket purchase "go through" in an attempt to "nail" you for the overdraft charge. The bank does not know about your McDonald's 5.00 purchase until it hard-posts to your account, which could be days later.
Sometimes I feel like one of those computer-expert-people on the phone, who start yabbering on in computer jargon as though you can just follow along. But banking... everybody does it. These people, they come to the bank at least once a week. Why do they look at the deposit slip as though it's a foreign item?
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Trojans and Mutts
Why look, it's my blog! I haven't been here in a while. For many reasons, or many excuses. First, I had a Very Bad Virus on my computer, and I really couldn't use my computer online till it was fixed. Usually, McAfee just finds the virus, Trojan or whatever, deletes it, and a little window pops up that says,
"Virus found and deleted!"
and disappears again. And I pat McAfee on the head for being such a good anti-virus software, being so diligent, protecting my computer! But this time, the window said,
"Trojan found, unable to delete"
which started all kinds of trouble. Many hours spend doing scans, visiting McAfee Help Online, visiting their forum boards, reading the FAQs, downloading their helpful mini-programs, running scans again. I eventually triumphed over the evil Trojan, which is now in quarantine. And I learned a lot about my computer and what to do with it. Like, Safe Mode. I didn't know what that was or how to use it, and now I do. This is the kind of thing I generally go to Don for, so it's nice to know that I can fix it myself if necessary.
And on Sunday, I had to work at the bookstore, when I've never had to work there before over the weekend. Everything I had planned to do-- you know, nothing interesting or fun but those little things that keep life moving like laundry, clean sheets on the bed, cleaning out the fridge-- didn't get done. So, no time to write. But, I've given my 2-weeks notice there. Starting in March, I will work just the one job, and just 35 hours a week.
I'm so exited that it's hard to describe. I'm trying to picture coming home from work on a Friday. It's about 5:00pm, and I have no other job to rush off to. The evening is mine, to spend with Don, to go out, to do as I wish. The weekend is mine. And all the evenings of the next week. It is an embarrassment of riches, this impending free time. The funny thing is that because the bank pays so much better per hour than the bookstore, I will barely be making any less money working 35 hours a week than I have been working 50-55 between the two of them these last three months.
Last night, Don and I watched the Westminster Dog Show, and Pedigree was running these commercials in order to raise money for their Adoption Drive . The first time this commercial came on, I cried. I think it's time to get another dog, or maybe, take some of my new free time and use it as volunteer time at the shelter here. Either way, I've decided to use dog-ness as a new judge of potential friends. I can't think of anyone worth knowing, off the top of my head, who doesn't like dogs.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
The Big Plunge
One of the nice things about working is that sometimes, we get bonuses. Extra money! Money that isn't already ear-marked in some way or another, for bills or for savings. I'm getting my year-end bonus at the beginning of March, and I think I know exactly what I want to do with it, but I'm scared. Last year, I was such a good girl. My bonus went straight into my fledgling little 401(k), every penny of it.
Only a few years out of college, and I'm still not used to this grown-up life that comes with paid vacation time, performance reviews, 401(k)'s, and bonus checks. The pay may be modest but the perks are OK.
The thing is, Don and I don't generally buy big things. We'd usually rather have $500.00 in the bank than have a 500-dollar-thingie at home and no money in the bank. We're saving to buy a house, saving to have emergency funds, for everything. Every time we think about buying something substantial, the thought fades away and we decide that the 'old one', whatever it is, should last awhile longer yet. That goes for the futon, Don's truck, our mattress, the dog... (just kidding about the dog). That doesn't mean that we're great at saving money or that we're really frugal. We still blow a lot of money on eating out, nights out, lattes, books, trips to Target or Lowes. It's easier to blow three hundred dollars by spending a little here, a little there until it's gone than to buy one three-hundred-dollar-thingie.
But here at the house we have a Laundry Situation, and it is not pretty. Our washer and dryer, they don't match. The dryer is an awesome dryer, a really fancy one, the kind that retails at over seven or eight hundred dollars. Don ended up bringing it home from work after it was discarded and no one else wanted it. One minor repair later and it is a dream dryer. The washer, though, is a piece of crap. We bought it for $50.00 from a relative of a coworker. It's probably as old as I am. It's 'belt' is broken, so when it tries to spin it vibrates all over the floor but the clothes are still soaking wet. It makes so much noise that I try to do laundry only when our downstairs neighbor isn't home. The clothes come out sudsy half the time, and have to go through another rinse. I'm pretty sure that it's only a few loads away from kicking the bucket completely.
So, I want to buy a new washer. But, I want to buy the dream-boat washer that would match our dryer, one that will eat up almost my whole bonus. At first I thought: maybe just a new, cheap machine. Something functional but basic. But if I do that, I'll want to replace it long before its time, because it won't have any of the features that I want: namely being a front-loader, being Energy-Star certified, and being crazy water-saving. Something like this, or this, or this. I want a washer that I will want to keep for as long as it survives, not a temporary machine. Washing machines last forever, I think; at least 8 or 9 years, judging by my parents' experience. (And obviously, by the dinosaur that I'm using right now, which could probably remember the Reagan Administration if washing machines had memory.) If I splurge right now and buy the good washer, it should last me a long, long, time. And it's not that hard to justify the cost if you calculate the cost per year if we can keep it working for, say, ten years. And, it will save money, too! Because of the Energy Star and the water-saving, and because if it actually wrings the clothes out during the spin cycle, the poor beleaguered dryer won't have to work quite as hard, either. But honestly, even the cheap washers spin. And it's hard to justify spending hundreds of dollars to save tens of dollars. But I want it. And I'll have the money to buy it, so what's the problem? I'm just going to do it. I am going to ignore that little voice that tells me to put the bonus check into my retirement account or into the House Down-payment Saving Account. It may not be a trip to Paris or a piece of jewelry, but it's what I want. Expect pictures of the Exiting New Washing Machine sometime in March.
ETA: I have become my mother. I am trying to justify the purchase of a prosaic, boring, useful appliance for the house, albeit an expensive one. How did I get so old so fast? Or have I always been this domesticated and not realized it till now?
Only a few years out of college, and I'm still not used to this grown-up life that comes with paid vacation time, performance reviews, 401(k)'s, and bonus checks. The pay may be modest but the perks are OK.
The thing is, Don and I don't generally buy big things. We'd usually rather have $500.00 in the bank than have a 500-dollar-thingie at home and no money in the bank. We're saving to buy a house, saving to have emergency funds, for everything. Every time we think about buying something substantial, the thought fades away and we decide that the 'old one', whatever it is, should last awhile longer yet. That goes for the futon, Don's truck, our mattress, the dog... (just kidding about the dog). That doesn't mean that we're great at saving money or that we're really frugal. We still blow a lot of money on eating out, nights out, lattes, books, trips to Target or Lowes. It's easier to blow three hundred dollars by spending a little here, a little there until it's gone than to buy one three-hundred-dollar-thingie.
But here at the house we have a Laundry Situation, and it is not pretty. Our washer and dryer, they don't match. The dryer is an awesome dryer, a really fancy one, the kind that retails at over seven or eight hundred dollars. Don ended up bringing it home from work after it was discarded and no one else wanted it. One minor repair later and it is a dream dryer. The washer, though, is a piece of crap. We bought it for $50.00 from a relative of a coworker. It's probably as old as I am. It's 'belt' is broken, so when it tries to spin it vibrates all over the floor but the clothes are still soaking wet. It makes so much noise that I try to do laundry only when our downstairs neighbor isn't home. The clothes come out sudsy half the time, and have to go through another rinse. I'm pretty sure that it's only a few loads away from kicking the bucket completely.
So, I want to buy a new washer. But, I want to buy the dream-boat washer that would match our dryer, one that will eat up almost my whole bonus. At first I thought: maybe just a new, cheap machine. Something functional but basic. But if I do that, I'll want to replace it long before its time, because it won't have any of the features that I want: namely being a front-loader, being Energy-Star certified, and being crazy water-saving. Something like this, or this, or this. I want a washer that I will want to keep for as long as it survives, not a temporary machine. Washing machines last forever, I think; at least 8 or 9 years, judging by my parents' experience. (And obviously, by the dinosaur that I'm using right now, which could probably remember the Reagan Administration if washing machines had memory.) If I splurge right now and buy the good washer, it should last me a long, long, time. And it's not that hard to justify the cost if you calculate the cost per year if we can keep it working for, say, ten years. And, it will save money, too! Because of the Energy Star and the water-saving, and because if it actually wrings the clothes out during the spin cycle, the poor beleaguered dryer won't have to work quite as hard, either. But honestly, even the cheap washers spin. And it's hard to justify spending hundreds of dollars to save tens of dollars. But I want it. And I'll have the money to buy it, so what's the problem? I'm just going to do it. I am going to ignore that little voice that tells me to put the bonus check into my retirement account or into the House Down-payment Saving Account. It may not be a trip to Paris or a piece of jewelry, but it's what I want. Expect pictures of the Exiting New Washing Machine sometime in March.
ETA: I have become my mother. I am trying to justify the purchase of a prosaic, boring, useful appliance for the house, albeit an expensive one. How did I get so old so fast? Or have I always been this domesticated and not realized it till now?
Monday, February 05, 2007
Sunday, February 04, 2007
"Leading Cause of Death" or, statistics
Heart disease is the 'leading cause of death' among women in this country. This is the month dedicated to "awareness", but what does "awareness" really mean? And what does "leading cause of death" really mean?
In any population, there are going to be several main causes of death. That is, you could pick maybe 10 "causes" that accounted for almost all of the deaths in that population. Something is always the leading cause of death. Throughout human history, the leading causes of death have remained fairly constant until the last century or so... you know, when everything changed. Until then, the leading causes of death for women were (first) infectious diseases like pneumonia, influenza, tuberculosis, and syphilis and (second) childbirth, although there is some overlap because one of the main 'ways' to die from childbirth was to contract a deadly infection from bad birthing hygiene.
"Leading cause of death" for children has changed dramatically, as well, thank God. According to one website, the leading causes of death for children in 1900 were "pneumonia and influenza, tuberculosis, and enteritis with diarrhea", and children under 5 accounted for 40% of those deaths.
So in 1900, if you were lucky enough to live through childhood without contracting a disease that would today be considered either extinct or curable; and you didn't contract one of those same diseases as an adult; and you were blessedly able to deliver your children into this world without dying in the process.... then you might worry about a 'later-adulthood' disease like heart disease.
That's the story for this country a hundred years ago, but life is still like that in countries right now. According to the World Health Organization, the world-wide leading cause of death is HIV/AIDS. Second: lower respiratory infections (as in pneumonia, bronchitis, tuberculosis...) Third: Diarrhea. Really. "Childhood Diseases" is still number six on the world's chart. All over the world, things like diarrhea and pneumonia are still leading causes of death, killing not the elderly but babies, children, young adults...
I guess what I'm trying to say is that as a country, we're damned lucky to claim heart disease as the "number-one-killer-of-women". It means that it's not childbirth. Not violence by men, by war, or by genocide. It's a disease that tends to strike later in life, and it indicates that as a population we're living long enough and healthy enough to get there.
I don't mean to say that "awareness" is not important. We should know what the top "killers" are, especially as the media tends to pick favorites (breast cancer, traffic fatalities) and publicize them. I'm not sure but I would guess that the average 40-something woman has been tested for breast cancer but maybe not for heart disease, and that's not right. We should definitely stop viewing heart disease as a men's problem when statistically it is killing more women. And of course we should make every attempt to eradicate heart disease, as we have with so many other things... polio, TB, syphilis.
But... we should not treat heart disease as some kind of "epidemic" that's "killing more people than ever before." Heart disease is not necessarily getting worse, or if it is, it is most likely due to lifestyle issues; our sedentary, overweight population is straining their hearts like never before. It's that we're dying so much less from everything else.
In any population, there are going to be several main causes of death. That is, you could pick maybe 10 "causes" that accounted for almost all of the deaths in that population. Something is always the leading cause of death. Throughout human history, the leading causes of death have remained fairly constant until the last century or so... you know, when everything changed. Until then, the leading causes of death for women were (first) infectious diseases like pneumonia, influenza, tuberculosis, and syphilis and (second) childbirth, although there is some overlap because one of the main 'ways' to die from childbirth was to contract a deadly infection from bad birthing hygiene.
"Leading cause of death" for children has changed dramatically, as well, thank God. According to one website, the leading causes of death for children in 1900 were "pneumonia and influenza, tuberculosis, and enteritis with diarrhea", and children under 5 accounted for 40% of those deaths.
So in 1900, if you were lucky enough to live through childhood without contracting a disease that would today be considered either extinct or curable; and you didn't contract one of those same diseases as an adult; and you were blessedly able to deliver your children into this world without dying in the process.... then you might worry about a 'later-adulthood' disease like heart disease.
That's the story for this country a hundred years ago, but life is still like that in countries right now. According to the World Health Organization, the world-wide leading cause of death is HIV/AIDS. Second: lower respiratory infections (as in pneumonia, bronchitis, tuberculosis...) Third: Diarrhea. Really. "Childhood Diseases" is still number six on the world's chart. All over the world, things like diarrhea and pneumonia are still leading causes of death, killing not the elderly but babies, children, young adults...
I guess what I'm trying to say is that as a country, we're damned lucky to claim heart disease as the "number-one-killer-of-women". It means that it's not childbirth. Not violence by men, by war, or by genocide. It's a disease that tends to strike later in life, and it indicates that as a population we're living long enough and healthy enough to get there.
I don't mean to say that "awareness" is not important. We should know what the top "killers" are, especially as the media tends to pick favorites (breast cancer, traffic fatalities) and publicize them. I'm not sure but I would guess that the average 40-something woman has been tested for breast cancer but maybe not for heart disease, and that's not right. We should definitely stop viewing heart disease as a men's problem when statistically it is killing more women. And of course we should make every attempt to eradicate heart disease, as we have with so many other things... polio, TB, syphilis.
But... we should not treat heart disease as some kind of "epidemic" that's "killing more people than ever before." Heart disease is not necessarily getting worse, or if it is, it is most likely due to lifestyle issues; our sedentary, overweight population is straining their hearts like never before. It's that we're dying so much less from everything else.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
AHHHHHHH!!!!
ok so I know I posted here only a few hours ago but in that time I discovered this:
That's THIS COMING SUMMER!
I could not be more exited, seriously. Have to go hyperventilate for awhile and call all similarly minded friends.
Heck, I'll be calling even the friends that couldnt' care less, just to talk their ears off a bit.
February-yay!
I thought this year that instead of making a grand list of New Year's Resolutions or Goals, I'd make one small goal each month. Keeps life more interesting that way, and I think it's easier to achieve. Having year-long goals makes it too easy to fall off the wagon, get depressed and angry about it and say, "Screw all the goals!" But at the other end, making no goals at all is tantamount to saying, "My self and my life are absolutely perfect, nothing here that needs any kind of improvement". My little goal for January was to get my 'extra room' into order, so that it was neat and usable instead of being crammed with unpacked boxes. Check!
For February, I'm trying something different. The bank where I work, it's in a building on the university grounds that houses all kinds of stuff-- student services, game rooms, cafeterias, a coffee place. Within the cafeteria (which is maybe 20 feet from the bank), is this stand that sells roast chicken, turkey and gravy, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, peach cobler... it's wonderful and it all tastes homemade-from-scratch. The macaroni? It's as good as the stuff I make at home. The gravy is not McCormick's, it tastes like Thanksgiving gravy. And I've been eating there two or three times a week, because it is SO GOOD, and yet it is SO BAD for me. So this month, I will abstain from the roast-chicken stand. Instead, I will go either to the sushi bar for non-fishy sushi (yes, I know. I know.) or get a fruit cup and yogurt, or bring something healthy from home. One month with no turkey-n-gravy-n-mashed . . .can I do it? I told my plan to both of my coworkers, so that they will hassle me should I waver. It's not that I'm trying to lose weight (although that would be OK too) so much as that I'm sure it's bad to eat as though it's Thanksgiving a couple of times a week.
For February, I'm trying something different. The bank where I work, it's in a building on the university grounds that houses all kinds of stuff-- student services, game rooms, cafeterias, a coffee place. Within the cafeteria (which is maybe 20 feet from the bank), is this stand that sells roast chicken, turkey and gravy, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, peach cobler... it's wonderful and it all tastes homemade-from-scratch. The macaroni? It's as good as the stuff I make at home. The gravy is not McCormick's, it tastes like Thanksgiving gravy. And I've been eating there two or three times a week, because it is SO GOOD, and yet it is SO BAD for me. So this month, I will abstain from the roast-chicken stand. Instead, I will go either to the sushi bar for non-fishy sushi (yes, I know. I know.) or get a fruit cup and yogurt, or bring something healthy from home. One month with no turkey-n-gravy-n-mashed . . .can I do it? I told my plan to both of my coworkers, so that they will hassle me should I waver. It's not that I'm trying to lose weight (although that would be OK too) so much as that I'm sure it's bad to eat as though it's Thanksgiving a couple of times a week.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
What have I done?
Sunday night, Don and I were 'social'. We 'went out' and 'did stuff with other people'... the dog was confused. Where did they go? Why aren't they at home? His company's holiday party first, held in the hotel. I've gotten so used to working with a very small group of people that seeing the crowd that Don works with is a little overwhelming. Where I work, you know not only your coworkers names but their life stories as well. Where Don works, half the people there are on a nod-and-smile-because-you-can't-remember-their-names basis. Afterwards we changed and went to play darts with some friends from the bookstore.
Darts. Who knew? I have always stayed away from darts, and anyone who knows me and my pitiful klutziness would understand why... sharp pointy objects being thrown? Not a good idea for Mara, right? I kind of figured that I would completely, totally suck at darts, extrapolating from 'sucking at pool', 'sucking at bowling', and 'sucking at all sports'. But darts is so much better than any of those things! First of all, anyone can at least hit the dartboard at least most of the time.
Unlike bowling, where the ball will dive into the gutter any chance it gets, or pool, where maybe you get your ball in, or maybe you accidentally get your opponent's ball in, scoring a point for them, or maybe you get the cue ball in, which for some reason doesn't count. But in darts, once the dart is thrown at the board, there's maybe a 30% chance of it hitting something that is helpful for your team. For example, twice I hit a bulls-eye (the little red circle in the middle, for the uninitiated) and once got a triple-19, just by sheer dumb luck. That almost never happens in, say, bowling, where so much strength and skill is required that luck doesn't count for much. And, my arm didn't even hurt the next day. Also, in darts the total score is scribbled on a chalk board, but unlike electronically-scored bowling, nothing is keeping track of every gutter-ball in an embarrassing fashion, showing a neat line of zeros marching alongside your strange bowling-alley abbreviated name.
Don loves darts. He is wonderfully skilled, but is that any surprise? Any game played in a bar, he is good at. He used to hustle pool. He plays left-handed to give himself a handicap, to make it more challenging. Sunday was the first time in maybe six years that he's played darts and he still kicked ass. At the end of the night, when Jen-from-the-bookstore-and-Co. were determining when we'd play again, it went kind of like this: "So we'll do this again two weeks from now, and Don, you come and PLAY ON OUR TEAM and oh yeah, Mara, you come too..."
And Don's playing again after so long, it's like reigniting a fire, or falling off the wagon or something. On the way home, he rhapsodized about the many ways we can now incorporate darts into our lives... "We can buy darts! And a dartboar, and hand it in your room, and we can practice at home before going out! But not the cheap plastic kind... real darts"
What have I done?
Darts. Who knew? I have always stayed away from darts, and anyone who knows me and my pitiful klutziness would understand why... sharp pointy objects being thrown? Not a good idea for Mara, right? I kind of figured that I would completely, totally suck at darts, extrapolating from 'sucking at pool', 'sucking at bowling', and 'sucking at all sports'. But darts is so much better than any of those things! First of all, anyone can at least hit the dartboard at least most of the time.
Unlike bowling, where the ball will dive into the gutter any chance it gets, or pool, where maybe you get your ball in, or maybe you accidentally get your opponent's ball in, scoring a point for them, or maybe you get the cue ball in, which for some reason doesn't count. But in darts, once the dart is thrown at the board, there's maybe a 30% chance of it hitting something that is helpful for your team. For example, twice I hit a bulls-eye (the little red circle in the middle, for the uninitiated) and once got a triple-19, just by sheer dumb luck. That almost never happens in, say, bowling, where so much strength and skill is required that luck doesn't count for much. And, my arm didn't even hurt the next day. Also, in darts the total score is scribbled on a chalk board, but unlike electronically-scored bowling, nothing is keeping track of every gutter-ball in an embarrassing fashion, showing a neat line of zeros marching alongside your strange bowling-alley abbreviated name.
Don loves darts. He is wonderfully skilled, but is that any surprise? Any game played in a bar, he is good at. He used to hustle pool. He plays left-handed to give himself a handicap, to make it more challenging. Sunday was the first time in maybe six years that he's played darts and he still kicked ass. At the end of the night, when Jen-from-the-bookstore-and-Co. were determining when we'd play again, it went kind of like this: "So we'll do this again two weeks from now, and Don, you come and PLAY ON OUR TEAM and oh yeah, Mara, you come too..."
And Don's playing again after so long, it's like reigniting a fire, or falling off the wagon or something. On the way home, he rhapsodized about the many ways we can now incorporate darts into our lives... "We can buy darts! And a dartboar, and hand it in your room, and we can practice at home before going out! But not the cheap plastic kind... real darts"
What have I done?
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Please Don't Annoy the Barista, Part 2
Things to do while ordering in a coffee shop that will slowly drive the person behind the counter to insanity:
1. Mispronounce everything. I don't mean the overly-complicated Italian names--anyone can get those wrong. But the simple stuff? Latte is pronounced by most of us as LAH-tay, not lah-TAY. Man do I hate hearing "I'll have a tall vanilla lah-TAY, heavy on the vanilla." Lah-TAY sounds both pretentious and misguided. A lots of people precede their drink order by the word "caffe". It means "coffee", basically, but that doesn't mean they're pronounced the same way. It's a little confusing/annoying to hear "I want a 'coffee' latte." Because of course we also sell... coffee. What do you want exactly?
2. Over-ordering. Not too much stuff, just too many words. You don't need the 'caffe' part of caffe mocha-- 95% of customers seem to understand that just a simple "mocha" works fine. And "caffe mocha latte"? Redundancy slows us down. "Breve latte"? SO redundant.
3. Use the word "just" out of context. "Just" implies that you're going to order something very basic and simple. "Just a small cup of coffee for me tonight" is correct. "I'll just have a Venti caramel Frappuccino, make that Lite, with whipped cream and extra drizzle" There is nothing JUST about that statement. What are you trying to imply, that it's somehow less work if you vocally minimize it with a "just"? That you honestly don't realize that you're a complicated, high-maintenance orderer?
4. Me: (smiling) "Hi, how're you doing this eve--"
Her: (interrupting) "I need a whatever, large, extra this and that."
OK. I try to be friendly or at least cheerful with every customer. The damned least you can do is let me finish saying hello before you barge ahead, unsmiling, with your order.
5. Claim to "need" your drink. You don't NEED a white-chocolate mocha. You WANT a mocha. Perhaps you WOULD LIKE a mocha. It really rankles to hear people claim to "need" specialty $4.00 coffee drinks as though it's a roof over their head or a winter coat on their back. I read somewhere that the average American family has $9,000 in credit card debt and basically nothing in savings-- how much does confusing needs with desires contribute to that situation, I wonder? A polite order would sound like this: "Hi, I would like..."
6. Order caffeinated drinks for your kids. Just a hint: those mocha Frappuccinos have as much caffeine as a latte, even if they do taste like a coffee milkshake. Mochas and flavored lattes are caffeinated as well, unless you specify decaf. I guess if you let your kids drink Coke then giving them a cup of coffee doesn't make the biggest difference, but have you ever thought about limiting the quantities of drugs in their systems until they hit adolescence? And, it might contraindicate the Ritalin.
7. Demonstrate a complete lack of irony. One woman comes to the counter to buy a book and a drink. The book is Weight Loss Wisdom: 365 Successful Dieting Tips . The drink is a venti toffee-nut latte, made with whole milk and whipped cream. The drink has 580 calories. 25 grams of fat. I think that may be in the book somewhere, and no, I don't think the book was for a friend.
On the bright side, last night I went to bed, fell asleep, and stayed asleep for 6 hours! I never thought something so simple could make me so happy. If I could only have slept in, too, instead of getting up for work... But still. My head is clear for the first time in days. I'm not fantasizing about taking a nap.
1. Mispronounce everything. I don't mean the overly-complicated Italian names--anyone can get those wrong. But the simple stuff? Latte is pronounced by most of us as LAH-tay, not lah-TAY. Man do I hate hearing "I'll have a tall vanilla lah-TAY, heavy on the vanilla." Lah-TAY sounds both pretentious and misguided. A lots of people precede their drink order by the word "caffe". It means "coffee", basically, but that doesn't mean they're pronounced the same way. It's a little confusing/annoying to hear "I want a 'coffee' latte." Because of course we also sell... coffee. What do you want exactly?
2. Over-ordering. Not too much stuff, just too many words. You don't need the 'caffe' part of caffe mocha-- 95% of customers seem to understand that just a simple "mocha" works fine. And "caffe mocha latte"? Redundancy slows us down. "Breve latte"? SO redundant.
3. Use the word "just" out of context. "Just" implies that you're going to order something very basic and simple. "Just a small cup of coffee for me tonight" is correct. "I'll just have a Venti caramel Frappuccino, make that Lite, with whipped cream and extra drizzle" There is nothing JUST about that statement. What are you trying to imply, that it's somehow less work if you vocally minimize it with a "just"? That you honestly don't realize that you're a complicated, high-maintenance orderer?
4. Me: (smiling) "Hi, how're you doing this eve--"
Her: (interrupting) "I need a whatever, large, extra this and that."
OK. I try to be friendly or at least cheerful with every customer. The damned least you can do is let me finish saying hello before you barge ahead, unsmiling, with your order.
5. Claim to "need" your drink. You don't NEED a white-chocolate mocha. You WANT a mocha. Perhaps you WOULD LIKE a mocha. It really rankles to hear people claim to "need" specialty $4.00 coffee drinks as though it's a roof over their head or a winter coat on their back. I read somewhere that the average American family has $9,000 in credit card debt and basically nothing in savings-- how much does confusing needs with desires contribute to that situation, I wonder? A polite order would sound like this: "Hi, I would like..."
6. Order caffeinated drinks for your kids. Just a hint: those mocha Frappuccinos have as much caffeine as a latte, even if they do taste like a coffee milkshake. Mochas and flavored lattes are caffeinated as well, unless you specify decaf. I guess if you let your kids drink Coke then giving them a cup of coffee doesn't make the biggest difference, but have you ever thought about limiting the quantities of drugs in their systems until they hit adolescence? And, it might contraindicate the Ritalin.
7. Demonstrate a complete lack of irony. One woman comes to the counter to buy a book and a drink. The book is Weight Loss Wisdom: 365 Successful Dieting Tips . The drink is a venti toffee-nut latte, made with whole milk and whipped cream. The drink has 580 calories. 25 grams of fat. I think that may be in the book somewhere, and no, I don't think the book was for a friend.
On the bright side, last night I went to bed, fell asleep, and stayed asleep for 6 hours! I never thought something so simple could make me so happy. If I could only have slept in, too, instead of getting up for work... But still. My head is clear for the first time in days. I'm not fantasizing about taking a nap.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
In My Room
There are a lot of things that I love about this house here in Virginia. I like that it is really a house instead of an apartment; a house in a tree-filled, walkable neighborhood instead of a concrete-covered complex. I love the fact that because it's tiny, it's a breeze to clean; and almost every room is a corner room with windows on two sides. But the single best, number-one thing has got to be having a second bedroom again. I think for a couple living together, having some kind of separate space is important, a place to 'be' that is not the living room or bedroom. For me, it's this room. 
This is the desk that Don and I made from scratch last year. Remember this? Now it holds the computer and printer, desk supplies and files and stuff, so they're not in the living room anymore. No computer in the living room-- it's almost like we're not college students anymore! Oh, wait. We aren't.
This poor overworked bookcase is holding practically my entire collection of books-- lots more stacked above, and two more boxes beside. It's looking forward to the day that we put in some bookcases in the living room. Hello, Ikea! In the meantime, it's nice to have them out of the cartons and available. I missed them!
One day Don and I will buy a real sofa, something nice. Then we can move the futon into this room and make it a guest bedroom as well. And, our living room will look even less like a college place because, no futon!
It's actually really small, smaller than it looks here-- I was squished in the corner by the door to take this picture. Having a room that's a catch-all makes every other room serve it's own purpose a little better.
Having this table (Thirty dollar! And a place to keep the sawhorses!) means that the dining table in the kitchen is just for eating-- it's not covered in craft materials or puzzle pieces, the way the dining table in Texas perpetually was. It's nice to be able to sit down for dinner across the table from each other. It's like a restaurant, but with cooking your own food and doing dishes after. Ok, maybe it's just like having a kitchen table and chairs. 
This is the desk that Don and I made from scratch last year. Remember this? Now it holds the computer and printer, desk supplies and files and stuff, so they're not in the living room anymore. No computer in the living room-- it's almost like we're not college students anymore! Oh, wait. We aren't.
This poor overworked bookcase is holding practically my entire collection of books-- lots more stacked above, and two more boxes beside. It's looking forward to the day that we put in some bookcases in the living room. Hello, Ikea! In the meantime, it's nice to have them out of the cartons and available. I missed them!
One day Don and I will buy a real sofa, something nice. Then we can move the futon into this room and make it a guest bedroom as well. And, our living room will look even less like a college place because, no futon!
Insomnia
Since my birthday last week, I've had a single night of real sleep. I don't know what's wrong, but every night it's tossing and turning, waking every time I manage to fall asleep. I'm trying everything I can think of:
Cutting back on caffeine; not that I drink a lot of it, but I've cut back to the one mocha or macchiato of the morning. No caffeine after noon.
Eliminating alcohol: drinking even a little bit seems to keep me up at night.
Going to bed earlier, getting up earlier. Trying to maintain a consistent pattern. Although it's hard to get up earlier when you haven't had much sleep to begin with.
Having Don sleep in the living room, to avoid the snoring. Didn't help, although it helped his neck a lot. But I still didn't sleep. And it was even worse without him there, I think.
Sex.
Hot baths or showers before bed.
Avoiding the tv before bedtime. You know, all the colors and noise and ideas. Last night we just never turned it on.
And I'm still getting outside with the dog everyday for a little fresh air and exercise. This is basically every physical thing I can think of, and none of it has helped for shit. I'm not upset or emotionally worked up over anything. Not depressed. Not stressed out. Everything in my life seems like it's going ok, so I really don't think it's an emotional issue. And I don't usually have to be at work until 11:00 in the morning, so even not sleeping at night isn't as stressful as it might be-- you know with that "Oh crap it's 3:00am now and I have to be at work at 8:30 which means I have to be up by 7:00 at the latest which means that I won't have even 5 hours of sleep which means I'll probably screw something up at work and get in trouble..."-- none of that, even.
I know that insomnia can come with the onset of old age, but I wouldn't think it'd be like, "Ding! 26! Time to stop sleeping!" I'm getting just enough every night, maybe 4 hours or so, to stay sane and not completely lose it. The good news is that I'm definitely getting an increase of hours at the bank to almost-full-time, so I'll be able to quit Job #2 at the end of February. I'm thinking that might help, because I work until midnight 3 times a week, which might be messing with my sleep cycles. Although why that would only start now when I've been working there since November I've no idea.
I'm also getting some new responsibilities at the bank soon-- opening accounts, doing wire transfers, that kind of thing. I don't know if it's an actual promotion or raise or just more work, but either way I'm glad. I'd rather be learning new things, trying something new than just doing the same-old same-old. The idea of another raise already is almost scary, like too much good news or something... although I'm sure I'll adjust to the idea quickly if it happens!
I spent all weekend cleaning the house and sorting out my room. My room! The second bedroom of the house, also known as the study/library/sewing room/guest room. It's where all the extra boxes of stuff have been stored since the move, mainly boxes of books since we don't have bookcases here. It's all sorted now, all boxes have dissapeared except for two remaining cartons of books that just won't have a home until we buy shelves. My desk looks great in here, and I have a new worktable, too-- it will be a sewing place soon but right now is the jigsaw puzzle table. It's just a hollow-core closet door from Lowe's ($30!) on top of Don's sawhorses. Cheap and perfect.
Pictures of my wonderful little room to follow, as soon as I can get it together to take picture and post them.
Cutting back on caffeine; not that I drink a lot of it, but I've cut back to the one mocha or macchiato of the morning. No caffeine after noon.
Eliminating alcohol: drinking even a little bit seems to keep me up at night.
Going to bed earlier, getting up earlier. Trying to maintain a consistent pattern. Although it's hard to get up earlier when you haven't had much sleep to begin with.
Having Don sleep in the living room, to avoid the snoring. Didn't help, although it helped his neck a lot. But I still didn't sleep. And it was even worse without him there, I think.
Sex.
Hot baths or showers before bed.
Avoiding the tv before bedtime. You know, all the colors and noise and ideas. Last night we just never turned it on.
And I'm still getting outside with the dog everyday for a little fresh air and exercise. This is basically every physical thing I can think of, and none of it has helped for shit. I'm not upset or emotionally worked up over anything. Not depressed. Not stressed out. Everything in my life seems like it's going ok, so I really don't think it's an emotional issue. And I don't usually have to be at work until 11:00 in the morning, so even not sleeping at night isn't as stressful as it might be-- you know with that "Oh crap it's 3:00am now and I have to be at work at 8:30 which means I have to be up by 7:00 at the latest which means that I won't have even 5 hours of sleep which means I'll probably screw something up at work and get in trouble..."-- none of that, even.
I know that insomnia can come with the onset of old age, but I wouldn't think it'd be like, "Ding! 26! Time to stop sleeping!" I'm getting just enough every night, maybe 4 hours or so, to stay sane and not completely lose it. The good news is that I'm definitely getting an increase of hours at the bank to almost-full-time, so I'll be able to quit Job #2 at the end of February. I'm thinking that might help, because I work until midnight 3 times a week, which might be messing with my sleep cycles. Although why that would only start now when I've been working there since November I've no idea.
I'm also getting some new responsibilities at the bank soon-- opening accounts, doing wire transfers, that kind of thing. I don't know if it's an actual promotion or raise or just more work, but either way I'm glad. I'd rather be learning new things, trying something new than just doing the same-old same-old. The idea of another raise already is almost scary, like too much good news or something... although I'm sure I'll adjust to the idea quickly if it happens!
I spent all weekend cleaning the house and sorting out my room. My room! The second bedroom of the house, also known as the study/library/sewing room/guest room. It's where all the extra boxes of stuff have been stored since the move, mainly boxes of books since we don't have bookcases here. It's all sorted now, all boxes have dissapeared except for two remaining cartons of books that just won't have a home until we buy shelves. My desk looks great in here, and I have a new worktable, too-- it will be a sewing place soon but right now is the jigsaw puzzle table. It's just a hollow-core closet door from Lowe's ($30!) on top of Don's sawhorses. Cheap and perfect.
Pictures of my wonderful little room to follow, as soon as I can get it together to take picture and post them.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
January Franklin Awards
About a month ago I mentioned creating a new award, like a Darwin Award for banking, the Franklin. I think I've found this month's contender, a girl who brings financial knowledge to a whole new low. This is an (I swear!) un-embellished conversation between this customer and my coworker, Kristin.
Girl: Um yeah, hi. I'm trying to find out why I haven't gotten a statement for my credit card yet in the mail.
Kristin: Ok. How long have you had the card? Because it takes a few weeks, sometimes a month.
Girl: I've had this card for a couple of months now! I keep using it but haven't gotten anything in the mail for it.
Kristin: A couple of months with no statement? Let me check it out. (brings up girl's accounts on the computer system.) I'm not seeing a credit card under your profile... are you sure the card is with this bank?
Girl: Of course it is! It says (insert bank's name) right on the card!
Kristin: If you have the card with you I can take a look at it. (Gets card from girl.) Ummm... this isn't a credit card, it's a debit card. Like, a check card?
Girl: I know that, but whenever they ask me 'credit or debit', I say 'credit'! That makes it a credit card, right?
Kristin: .....
Kristin: (mightily refraining from inappropriate comments like 'How did you ever get into this university' or 'Are you blond underneath') No, hon, all it does is make you sign for it instead of using your PIN. Any time you use your check card that money's gonna come right out of your checking account. It never works like a credit card. A credit card is something you have to apply for separately, and it won't say 'debit' on the front.
Girl: .... (thinking seriously)
Girl: So is that why those transactions keep showing up on my checking account statement?
Girl: Um yeah, hi. I'm trying to find out why I haven't gotten a statement for my credit card yet in the mail.
Kristin: Ok. How long have you had the card? Because it takes a few weeks, sometimes a month.
Girl: I've had this card for a couple of months now! I keep using it but haven't gotten anything in the mail for it.
Kristin: A couple of months with no statement? Let me check it out. (brings up girl's accounts on the computer system.) I'm not seeing a credit card under your profile... are you sure the card is with this bank?
Girl: Of course it is! It says (insert bank's name) right on the card!
Kristin: If you have the card with you I can take a look at it. (Gets card from girl.) Ummm... this isn't a credit card, it's a debit card. Like, a check card?
Girl: I know that, but whenever they ask me 'credit or debit', I say 'credit'! That makes it a credit card, right?
Kristin: .....
Kristin: (mightily refraining from inappropriate comments like 'How did you ever get into this university' or 'Are you blond underneath') No, hon, all it does is make you sign for it instead of using your PIN. Any time you use your check card that money's gonna come right out of your checking account. It never works like a credit card. A credit card is something you have to apply for separately, and it won't say 'debit' on the front.
Girl: .... (thinking seriously)
Girl: So is that why those transactions keep showing up on my checking account statement?
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Low-Rise Long Johns and Airborne Birthday Cake
It finally got cold here in Virginia, in keeping with the rest of the country. I leave Texas looking for snowier climes, and who gets the winter storm? Texas. Here we just have clear, cold, and breezy. Yesterday I was reduced to wearing long underwear under my dress pants for work, because the pants are thin and I have a quarter-mile walk after I get to work. Everything worked fine except for the waistband, which is higher than I'd ever wear a pair of pants and required strategic stuffing, tucking and rolling in order not to show over the pants waist. So attention, underwear manufacturers: the time is right for low-rise long johns. Something that will fit cleanly beneath the sleekest, most stylish trousers.
Yesterday: my birthday, the big 2-6. I feel newly old, wise, mature... yeah right! Maybe if I didn't keep getting mistaken for a University student. It was actually a wonderful birthday and I was surprised, because the first part was kind of...meh. Had to work, work was crazy, etc etc. But when I got home there was a package from my parents waiting on the porch. My mom sent, in addition to birthday presents...
One homemade carrot cake
One tub of frosting
One plastic knife
A package of birthday candles
Detailed instructions regarding the cake, including "Have Don sing Happy Birthday" and "Make a wish"
Enough to make someone cry, really. My mom makes the best carrot cake. Then Don came home and took me out to dinner; to a fancy place, the kind of restaurant you dress up for. And gave me a beautiful necklace. And... yeah. A good birthday.
*********************************************************************************
P.S. If there's anyone out there who happens to turn 26 on January 21st... Happy Birthday and God bless.
Yesterday: my birthday, the big 2-6. I feel newly old, wise, mature... yeah right! Maybe if I didn't keep getting mistaken for a University student. It was actually a wonderful birthday and I was surprised, because the first part was kind of...meh. Had to work, work was crazy, etc etc. But when I got home there was a package from my parents waiting on the porch. My mom sent, in addition to birthday presents...
One homemade carrot cake
One tub of frosting
One plastic knife
A package of birthday candles
Detailed instructions regarding the cake, including "Have Don sing Happy Birthday" and "Make a wish"
Enough to make someone cry, really. My mom makes the best carrot cake. Then Don came home and took me out to dinner; to a fancy place, the kind of restaurant you dress up for. And gave me a beautiful necklace. And... yeah. A good birthday.
*********************************************************************************
P.S. If there's anyone out there who happens to turn 26 on January 21st... Happy Birthday and God bless.
Monday, January 15, 2007
New Song
Apparently, Don and I have a new 'our' song. I was not consulted about this, but we seem to have migrated from heavy metal to country, from sexy to sappy sweet. But, who can complain? Every time we're in the car and this song comes on, he sings along (off-key) and pokes me in the leg for any lyrics he finds applicable.
"She's Everything"
Brad Paisley
She's a yellow pair of running shoes
A holey pair of jeans
She looks great in cheap sunglasses
She looks great in anything
She's I want a piece of chocolate
Take me to a movie
She's I can't find a thing to wear
Now and then she's moody
She's a Saturn with a sunroof
With her brown hair a-blowing
She's a soft place to land
And a good feeling knowing
She's a warm conversation
That I wouldn't miss for nothing
She's a fighter when she's mad
And she's a lover when she's loving
And she's everything I ever wanted
And everything I need
I talk about her, I go on and on and on
'Cause she's everything to me
She's a Saturday out on the town
And a church girl on Sunday
She's a cross around her neck
And a cuss word 'cause its Monday
She's a bubble bath and candles
Baby come and kiss me
She's a one glass of wine
And she's feeling kinda tipsy
She's the giver I wish I could be
And the stealer of the covers
She's a picture in my wallet
Of my unborn children's mother
She's the hand that I'm holding
When I'm on my knees and praying
She's the answer to my prayer
And she's the song that I'm playing
She's the voice I love to hear
Someday when I'm ninety
She's that wooden rocking chair
I want rocking right beside me
Everyday that passes
I only love her more
Yeah, she's the one
That I'd lay down my own life for
And she's everything I ever wanted
And everything I need
She's everything to me
Yeah she's everything to me
Everything I ever wanted
And everything I need
She's everything to me
And I'll have you know that it takes more than one glass of wine to make me tipsy... more like one and a half. And really, who doesn't steal covers?
"She's Everything"
Brad Paisley
She's a yellow pair of running shoes
A holey pair of jeans
She looks great in cheap sunglasses
She looks great in anything
She's I want a piece of chocolate
Take me to a movie
She's I can't find a thing to wear
Now and then she's moody
She's a Saturn with a sunroof
With her brown hair a-blowing
She's a soft place to land
And a good feeling knowing
She's a warm conversation
That I wouldn't miss for nothing
She's a fighter when she's mad
And she's a lover when she's loving
And she's everything I ever wanted
And everything I need
I talk about her, I go on and on and on
'Cause she's everything to me
She's a Saturday out on the town
And a church girl on Sunday
She's a cross around her neck
And a cuss word 'cause its Monday
She's a bubble bath and candles
Baby come and kiss me
She's a one glass of wine
And she's feeling kinda tipsy
She's the giver I wish I could be
And the stealer of the covers
She's a picture in my wallet
Of my unborn children's mother
She's the hand that I'm holding
When I'm on my knees and praying
She's the answer to my prayer
And she's the song that I'm playing
She's the voice I love to hear
Someday when I'm ninety
She's that wooden rocking chair
I want rocking right beside me
Everyday that passes
I only love her more
Yeah, she's the one
That I'd lay down my own life for
And she's everything I ever wanted
And everything I need
She's everything to me
Yeah she's everything to me
Everything I ever wanted
And everything I need
She's everything to me
And I'll have you know that it takes more than one glass of wine to make me tipsy... more like one and a half. And really, who doesn't steal covers?
Friday, January 12, 2007
New Year
I finally got pictures up from the trip. We took almost 400, so I just kind of picked a few. Every day with the hiking and the mountains and the canyons--it was wonderful. I feel so blessed, so grateful to have such a close-knit family; even though my sister and I are grown we still take family vacations together with my parents. It's a bittersweet feeling, because that was probably the last time that it will ever be just the five of us. Don was invited on this trip but couldn't make it, next time he'll be with us, and maybe my sister's boyfriend, and eventually we'll have our own family as well.
My parents have bought a vacation house in New Mexico that we will all be using from now on-- they've given Don and me carte blanche to crash there whenever, and probably K and her guy as well. It looks beautiful, and I keep imagining future vacations-- just the two of us, or my entire clan, or maybe with new babies-- mine? My sister's? I think, I hope that having this family vacation place will help to keep us close, even as we branch out. I want us to remain the kind of family that voluntarily spends time together-- hard-earned vacation time. Maybe we'll take up skiing.
So it's January again. I love January, and not just because it's my birthday month either. I love the clean, fresh-washed feel of a new year; all the decadence and splurge of Christmas washed away; everyone looking forwards with goals and resolutions. I went back through my blog to look up last year's goals to see how I'd done in 2006. Answer... not bad. Not great, but decent. The most-achieved category were the financial goals, the least being dietary changes. It was harder than I thought it'd be to stay out of debt, and I've got a bit now that needs paying off again. Yo-yo dieting? No, try yo-yo budgeting.
But, I try to look at debt as a income-to-debt ratio. If you make, say, $25,000 (just an example, read nothing into that please) and have $1,000 in debt, that's like what, 1/25? Equal to one (gross) 2-week paycheck. But if you make $25,000 and have $6,000 in debt, you owe like a quarter of your yearly income before it's even made! This makes me feel pretty good about the little bit o' debt that I have, because I know I can pay it off in the next few weeks-- it's not even enough to make a goal over. And, my Discover card is back in hiding and out of my wallet. My 401(k) goal rocked. Seriously, I didn't know how easy it'd be to set it up and put money there. I only kept track of my spending for 3 months, but really that was enough. I'm not that 'detail oriented', really.
Breakfast every day? Ha! Only if a Starbucks Grande non-fat Caramel Macchiato counts as breakfast. But, I didn't gain any weight for the year and even lost a few pounds in Big Bend-- must have been all the walking up and down mountains.
Don's and my real goal for 2006, though, was to get the heck out of Dallas and into greener pastures. Check! One cross-country move ticked off the list. This year I'm not going to make a list of goals . Rather, I'm going to go for smaller, monthly goals to keep things interesting--small changes, nothing major, just something to challenge. My goal for the weekend is to clean the apartment, set up my new work table w/ the sewing machine, and stock up on groceries. As I said... nothing major!
My parents have bought a vacation house in New Mexico that we will all be using from now on-- they've given Don and me carte blanche to crash there whenever, and probably K and her guy as well. It looks beautiful, and I keep imagining future vacations-- just the two of us, or my entire clan, or maybe with new babies-- mine? My sister's? I think, I hope that having this family vacation place will help to keep us close, even as we branch out. I want us to remain the kind of family that voluntarily spends time together-- hard-earned vacation time. Maybe we'll take up skiing.
So it's January again. I love January, and not just because it's my birthday month either. I love the clean, fresh-washed feel of a new year; all the decadence and splurge of Christmas washed away; everyone looking forwards with goals and resolutions. I went back through my blog to look up last year's goals to see how I'd done in 2006. Answer... not bad. Not great, but decent. The most-achieved category were the financial goals, the least being dietary changes. It was harder than I thought it'd be to stay out of debt, and I've got a bit now that needs paying off again. Yo-yo dieting? No, try yo-yo budgeting.
But, I try to look at debt as a income-to-debt ratio. If you make, say, $25,000 (just an example, read nothing into that please) and have $1,000 in debt, that's like what, 1/25? Equal to one (gross) 2-week paycheck. But if you make $25,000 and have $6,000 in debt, you owe like a quarter of your yearly income before it's even made! This makes me feel pretty good about the little bit o' debt that I have, because I know I can pay it off in the next few weeks-- it's not even enough to make a goal over. And, my Discover card is back in hiding and out of my wallet. My 401(k) goal rocked. Seriously, I didn't know how easy it'd be to set it up and put money there. I only kept track of my spending for 3 months, but really that was enough. I'm not that 'detail oriented', really.
Breakfast every day? Ha! Only if a Starbucks Grande non-fat Caramel Macchiato counts as breakfast. But, I didn't gain any weight for the year and even lost a few pounds in Big Bend-- must have been all the walking up and down mountains.
Don's and my real goal for 2006, though, was to get the heck out of Dallas and into greener pastures. Check! One cross-country move ticked off the list. This year I'm not going to make a list of goals . Rather, I'm going to go for smaller, monthly goals to keep things interesting--small changes, nothing major, just something to challenge. My goal for the weekend is to clean the apartment, set up my new work table w/ the sewing machine, and stock up on groceries. As I said... nothing major!
Monday, January 08, 2007
+of+DSC02271.jpg)
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Terlingua: Not a Ski Town
Man. I have about six post's worth of stuff swirling around right now, and no way to get it all out except for my favorite, the rambling stream of consciousness! This was seriously an amazing vacation. Amazing amazing amazing. I'm the first to admit that a hiking-based trip is not my favorite kind of vacation; give me a big city with cafes and art museums and I'm happy. But, hiking is good too! Who knew? My brother and I took about 400 photos between us-- coming soon to a blog near you!
So, my entire family-- parents, brother, sister, me-- squeeze into one vehicle and drive the 10 hours from Dallas to Big Bend National Park. Big Bend is that green area there in the very southern tip of Texas, bordered by the Rio Grande. My dad very recently purchased one of these new smaller SUV's and let me just say that they don't really comfortably hold 5 normal-sized adults with a week's worth of luggage. The fact that we were all still on speaking terms on arrival is kind of miraculous.
Because my new flight plans were made so suddenly, I got to be on the list for the Special Search every time I went through security, at each airport. Yay for the 15-minute search of the backpack, in which all the little Chanukah presents are poked through and swabbed for explosives; for the physical pat-down, the new air-puffy thing (also for explosives). I pointed out at Cincinnati that I'd just come off of an airplane and hadn't left the airport but it made no difference-- "detailed search" was apparently encoded into my ticket. I wonder if the hundred or so other passengers that I was originally scheduled to fly with had to do the same thing.
Still, if the original plane was broken, I'd much rather be canceled and re-routed and delayed than, you know, dead. I'd rather them figure out ahead of time that the plane needs repairs than search through wreckage trying to figure out what went wrong. I only got in six hours later than planned, and the flights themselves were perfect, so no harm.
So, my entire family-- parents, brother, sister, me-- squeeze into one vehicle and drive the 10 hours from Dallas to Big Bend National Park. Big Bend is that green area there in the very southern tip of Texas, bordered by the Rio Grande. My dad very recently purchased one of these new smaller SUV's and let me just say that they don't really comfortably hold 5 normal-sized adults with a week's worth of luggage. The fact that we were all still on speaking terms on arrival is kind of miraculous.
The drive between Interstate 20 and the park is very remote; we'd go half an hour at a time without seeing another vehicle. The park itself is remote, too. No cell phone reception, no TV's in the lodge rooms, no Internet. Hiking, kayaking the Rio Grande, and communing with nature are really the only things to do out there, but there's enough of that to go around. The nearest town is the ghost town Terlingua, which we visited twice. If you think that you know Texas because you've lived in Dallas your whole life (like me) and have maybe driven out to Austin and San Antonio a few times, let me tell you that you have to see this park, 'cause you don't know Texas. Texas has mountains! Cliffs! Gorges! Wild pig-like creatures called javalinas! Fantastic photos to follow soon, with explanatory text and stories!
My trip back to Virginia yesterday was... interesting. Had to be at DFW at 7:20am for my flight. They begin boarding. They stop the boarding. They reverse-board, because the plane is very broken-- something about loose screws ripping up fan-blades that are supposed to be perfectly calibrated. They announce that this particular aircraft is going to be "grounded" for a few days (I love that, because it sounds like the plane has misbehaved) and because they don't keep extra planes sitting around for things like this, our flight is canceled. Every single person on that flight has to be re-routed through other airlines, terminals, and cities to get where they're going-- the line for getting re-routed takes more than an hour. I get routed through Cincinnati on a flight that leaves from the other side of the airport four hours later. But, at DFW it's very easy to get from one terminal to another with the Sky-line-rail-thingie. I know I sound biased but DFW really is the best airport in it's class. Well-laid-out, easy to understand and navigate, heavy on the Starbucks. Especially compared with crazy places like the Cincinnati airport, which was utterly weird. I'm not exactly an airport virgin-- I've been through La Guardia and JFK, O'Hare and Detroit, Washington Dulles, San Fransisco. Never anything like yesterday, though... I was wandering around lost like some kind of hayseed. It seems like that place is stacked up in layers instead of being sprawled out horizontally, and the terminal at which I landed was some kind of reject leftover, tacked onto the very end.Because my new flight plans were made so suddenly, I got to be on the list for the Special Search every time I went through security, at each airport. Yay for the 15-minute search of the backpack, in which all the little Chanukah presents are poked through and swabbed for explosives; for the physical pat-down, the new air-puffy thing (also for explosives). I pointed out at Cincinnati that I'd just come off of an airplane and hadn't left the airport but it made no difference-- "detailed search" was apparently encoded into my ticket. I wonder if the hundred or so other passengers that I was originally scheduled to fly with had to do the same thing.
Still, if the original plane was broken, I'd much rather be canceled and re-routed and delayed than, you know, dead. I'd rather them figure out ahead of time that the plane needs repairs than search through wreckage trying to figure out what went wrong. I only got in six hours later than planned, and the flights themselves were perfect, so no harm.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Random Baby Moment
Do you know what this thing is? It's some kind of interesting combination between stuffed animal doggie and blankie. I was eating lunch yesterday at Bodo's Bagels, reading the paper, minding my own business. When this baby--for no apparent reason--toddled up to me, eyed me seriously for a moment, and handed me his... doggie-blanket-thingie. Not in a dismissive I'm-finished-with-this-now way, but very earnestly; it was as though he had decided that out of all the good folk eating their lunch at Bodo's, I alone could truly appreciate the specialness of a well-chewed blankie.He was quickly followed by an apologetic guy about my age, who rescinded the dog-blanket, scooped up the child, made quick small talk (I'm just the baby-sitter, he's one year old, so sorry, wave bye-bye to the nice lady) and left. The whole thing was weird but slightly touching.
I have lost internet access at home because the modem is dead, dead, dead. BAD modem. I think I may have a slight 'problem' re: being online (like, addiction?) because in retrospect being offline for a few days shouldn't be that big of a deal, right? But I was distraught. 2 days until my vacation, though! Which will be a fairly internet-free vacation, which will be healthy.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Conceivable
We live in a very goal-oriented society, don't we? Everything in life is meant to go by plan, ticked one-by-one off of a list, never left to chance. I've always disliked the question, "So what do you want to do with your life?" because I don't think that life is something to plan. Oh, we make decisions, accept jobs or quit them, move from city to city... we build our lives bit by bit, stage by stage. But I don't know anybody who had a master plan at the age of, say, 20, and followed it faithfully. Most of us are more likely to try something, re-think, try something else. When Don finished high school, he went to school to become an auto-mechanic. A turn of fate and a broken ankle brought him to construction instead. At 19, he joined the army, which took him to Germany, where he began learning the rudiments of hotel maintenance and engineering. Each turn builds on the last. If someone had asked him at 18 what he wanted to do with his life, he would have replied with auto-mechanics. At 25, he wanted to retire with the army. Even now, it's impossible to know what he'll be doing in 10 more years. When I was 18, I wanted to be a chef. In college, I thought about finance-- stocks, fund management, the works. Now? I have no idea. I don't have a master plan. I'm letting my life take it's own twists and turns and seeing where it takes me. So why does everything have to follow a script?
One example: marriage proposals. When Don and I announced that we were engaged, it seems like everybody wanted to know "how he did it", because there's this pervading media-driven idea that a proposal should be a carefully thought-out, planned event. It should include any or all of the following: bended knees, expensive jewelry, a prepared speech, tears, and a "theme" that speaks to the couple's relationship--a ballpark? a restaurant? a movie theater? How he did it? How about very late one night, after a long conversation, in bed, in the dark. Cuddled up together talking about the future, he asked...Would I marry him? And I would. Not planned, not well-reasoned with a list of pros and cons, but a spontaneous, from-the-heart proposal.
Another life event that's supposed to go by plan: kids. Having a baby is supposed to be carefully decided upon. Conception is something that is absolutely supposed to go as planned; a goal to achieve or not, a 'done' on a to-do list. There is a continuum of conception from absolutely trying not to get pregnant to doing everything within one's power to get there, but it is a continuum with a rather large gap in the center. On the far end of the scale is sterilization-- a tube-tie or vasectomy. Then various forms of birth control, from the draconian IUDs/shots/etc to loosey-goosey condoms. Then an abrupt shift, from actively preventing pregnancy to courting it, to "trying"; all the way up to the invasive in-vitro procedures and etc . This is why any time a woman gets pregnant, the couple is asked if it is "planned". Which I would find incredibly rude, but hey maybe that's just me. Why not just ask, "So, did you actually *want* this kid?"
What ever happened to the middle ground of the spectrum? What about not-trying-not-preventing, about leaving things to chance, about letting nature take its course? Is there still room in this world for chance, for spontaneity? Don and I probably won't start "trying" to make a baby until after the wedding, but for the time being, we're existing in this happy middle ground of "well-let's just-see-what-happens". This approach seems to have worked for humanity for millennia, before we felt the need to control every aspect of existence, and it's fun too. So, if I end up writing a "surprise-I'm-pregnant" post, please don't ask if it was "planned", or if we were "surprised", or whatever. Instead, consider it serendipity.
One example: marriage proposals. When Don and I announced that we were engaged, it seems like everybody wanted to know "how he did it", because there's this pervading media-driven idea that a proposal should be a carefully thought-out, planned event. It should include any or all of the following: bended knees, expensive jewelry, a prepared speech, tears, and a "theme" that speaks to the couple's relationship--a ballpark? a restaurant? a movie theater? How he did it? How about very late one night, after a long conversation, in bed, in the dark. Cuddled up together talking about the future, he asked...Would I marry him? And I would. Not planned, not well-reasoned with a list of pros and cons, but a spontaneous, from-the-heart proposal.
Another life event that's supposed to go by plan: kids. Having a baby is supposed to be carefully decided upon. Conception is something that is absolutely supposed to go as planned; a goal to achieve or not, a 'done' on a to-do list. There is a continuum of conception from absolutely trying not to get pregnant to doing everything within one's power to get there, but it is a continuum with a rather large gap in the center. On the far end of the scale is sterilization-- a tube-tie or vasectomy. Then various forms of birth control, from the draconian IUDs/shots/etc to loosey-goosey condoms. Then an abrupt shift, from actively preventing pregnancy to courting it, to "trying"; all the way up to the invasive in-vitro procedures and etc . This is why any time a woman gets pregnant, the couple is asked if it is "planned". Which I would find incredibly rude, but hey maybe that's just me. Why not just ask, "So, did you actually *want* this kid?"
What ever happened to the middle ground of the spectrum? What about not-trying-not-preventing, about leaving things to chance, about letting nature take its course? Is there still room in this world for chance, for spontaneity? Don and I probably won't start "trying" to make a baby until after the wedding, but for the time being, we're existing in this happy middle ground of "well-let's just-see-what-happens". This approach seems to have worked for humanity for millennia, before we felt the need to control every aspect of existence, and it's fun too. So, if I end up writing a "surprise-I'm-pregnant" post, please don't ask if it was "planned", or if we were "surprised", or whatever. Instead, consider it serendipity.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Christmas Rant, part 2
Christmas music is annoying. No matter how you much you may actually *like* Christmas songs, by the time December is half way over. . . .it's headache season! What's really bugging me is how the Holiday Season is taking over songs that aren't even related to Christmas, so that 'Silent Night' is for some reason followed by 'My Favorite Things'-- which, hello, is from The Sound of Music and has zilch to do with Christmas, Generic Holiday, or even Winter. Basically there are four categories of "Christmas" songs, although I use that title loosely.
Category One: The Old-Fashioned, Religious Songs.
These are the old classics that stem from the time when Christmas had some sort of religious meaning. 'Silent Night', 'Away in a Manger', 'Little Drummer Boy', and 'Hark the Herald Angels Sing' fall into category one. It's actually a small category, because they ain't making more like those, for obvious reasons.
Category Two: Songs about Santa, shopping, and the Christmas Season
Somewhere along the way, Christmas went from being a single day+ evening to being the entire block of time between Thanksgiving and New Years. These songs celebrate the non-religious social side of Christmas. There are lots of songs about reindeer, Rudolph and Santa, like 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town', 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer', and 'Santa Baby' (my personal all-time favorite Christmas song). There are lots of songs about general festivity and togetherness, like 'We Wish you a Merry Christmas' and 'The Most Wonderful Time of Year'.
Category Three: Songs about Winter That Do Not Mention Christmas in any Way, Shape or Form.
Have you ever really listened to the lyrics of 'Jingle Bells'? Really? Are you aware that it is not actually a Christmas song? There are many songs about winter, snow, and weather that could apply equally to December or February (or May up north). 'Let it Snow': not a Christmas song! Don't believe me? (link) Same with Sleigh Ride. There is one line in Sleigh Ride about going to a Christmas party, but the original lyrics are about a birthday party. 'Baby, It's Cold Outside' seems to have been added to this list of non-Christmas winter-time songs, although it's slightly scandalous to go from 'Little Drummer Boy' to 'Baby, It's Cold Outside' without any kind of segue.
Category Four: Totally Random Songs That Have Nothing Whatsoever To Do With Christmas or Even Winter in Any Way.
Umm, 'My Favorite Things', anybody? Yes, it mentions snowflakes, but there are also raindrops, kittens, ponies, wild geese, spring...
Category One: The Old-Fashioned, Religious Songs.
These are the old classics that stem from the time when Christmas had some sort of religious meaning. 'Silent Night', 'Away in a Manger', 'Little Drummer Boy', and 'Hark the Herald Angels Sing' fall into category one. It's actually a small category, because they ain't making more like those, for obvious reasons.
Category Two: Songs about Santa, shopping, and the Christmas Season
Somewhere along the way, Christmas went from being a single day+ evening to being the entire block of time between Thanksgiving and New Years. These songs celebrate the non-religious social side of Christmas. There are lots of songs about reindeer, Rudolph and Santa, like 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town', 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer', and 'Santa Baby' (my personal all-time favorite Christmas song). There are lots of songs about general festivity and togetherness, like 'We Wish you a Merry Christmas' and 'The Most Wonderful Time of Year'.
Category Three: Songs about Winter That Do Not Mention Christmas in any Way, Shape or Form.
Have you ever really listened to the lyrics of 'Jingle Bells'? Really? Are you aware that it is not actually a Christmas song? There are many songs about winter, snow, and weather that could apply equally to December or February (or May up north). 'Let it Snow': not a Christmas song! Don't believe me? (link) Same with Sleigh Ride. There is one line in Sleigh Ride about going to a Christmas party, but the original lyrics are about a birthday party. 'Baby, It's Cold Outside' seems to have been added to this list of non-Christmas winter-time songs, although it's slightly scandalous to go from 'Little Drummer Boy' to 'Baby, It's Cold Outside' without any kind of segue.
Category Four: Totally Random Songs That Have Nothing Whatsoever To Do With Christmas or Even Winter in Any Way.
Umm, 'My Favorite Things', anybody? Yes, it mentions snowflakes, but there are also raindrops, kittens, ponies, wild geese, spring...
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Please Don't Annoy the Barista
This whole 2-jobs thing is starting to come together; I'm falling into a routine, a pattern. My body is adjusting for the most part, and I'm sleeping like a rock between shifts. Except for the fact that I have no time to do anything but work, eat, and sleep, things are going well. Last night I got home a little after 8 from the bank's holiday dinner (much fun and frivolity there)... I was in bed by 10 and slept for 11 glorious hours. I just wish I could keep up with the house, the laundry, my friends, family... I talked to my mom this morning for the first time in 2 weeks. Two things really keep me looking fowards, though.
My vacation. Just 12 more days and I'll be flying back to Texas to spend a glorious 11 days with my family, vacationing out at Big Bend.
The idea that this whole situation may be temporary. There's a good chance that the bank will be increasing my hours to almost full time, which would decrease the need for supplementary income. I should know in the next week or so.
So, maybe the bookstore-gig will be a short blip in time, which is good because being back in the Land of Books and Coffee makes me remember everything that annoyed me about coffee-orderers before. I already have one customer-service-oriented job; two makes me a little spazzy.
Customer: This frappacino is a little slushy. Could you remake it so that it's 'thicker'?
Me: Bite me! I mean, um, of course I can.
I think that there should be clear guidelines on ordering a drink. Like modifiers. Nobody should be allowed to use more than two modifiers on any one drink. Modifiers would include things like non-fat, soy, extra-hot, decaf, whatever. Because you know that thing in When Harry Met Sally, where Meg Ryan's character takes half an hour to order anything? Nobody but Harry thinks that's cute. And the waitress is definitely not laughing.
So a grande gingerbread latte, extra-hot no whip? OK! A soy decaf latte? Good! A caramel macchiato, lite on the syrup but with whipped cream? Fine! A grande gingerbread latte, but with soy milk, decaf espresso, no whip, no foam, and extra hot? For God's sake, get a life! You are nowhere near as important as you seem to think; just order a damn drink like everyone else. Thank you, and have a great day.
Whipped cream?
It's a yes-or-no question. Either you want it, or you don't. Do not say, "A little", "some", or "extra" in regards to whipped cream. Because those cups we mark? There's only room for a check mark, or a single word. the cup does not provide room for an essay on how you prefer your beverage. And by the way? Whever reason you had for choosing soy milk is kind of obliterated if you pile whipped cream on top of it.
Temperature.
Kid's drinks, especially hot chocolate? We understand the not-too-hot-please. Taking your drink on the road? Extra-hot is ok. I mean, sure it kinda ruins the milk to scald it like that, but hey, you asked. Do not give us a temperature, please. It is weird and kind of insulting to say, "Steam the milk to 140 degrees, if you would." Ok, do you work in the industry? If you're THAT PROUD of your espresso-machine knowledge, just wear your little apron everywhere you go, it's less of a headache.
Decaf
I'm with you here, people. I'm very caffeine-sensitive, and I drink only decaf after 5pm or so. But asking 500 times, "That's decaf, right?" as the barista makes your drink? If you are *that* worried about it, get an herbal tea or a hot chocolate or something. Because yeah, sometimes we do mess up, it's happened to my own beverages at times.
Just Plain Coffee
This is to all of you people that sneer at the idea of an espresso-based beverage and would rather drink truck-stop coffee than a Maple Machiatto. You know, that's ok. For every frou-frou drink, we probably sell three cups of drip. But there is no need to swagger up to the counter, squint menacingly at the menu board, and demand whether we have 'just regular coffee' while muttering about 4-dollar coffee drinks. Of course we serve coffee, and most people can order it politely, without sneering at the entire establishment. I'm sorry that our fancy-pants-four-dollar-coffee gives you an inferiority complex that you have to hide beneath bad manners; if a 50-cent cup of really bad coffee is what you want, there's a gas station on the corner.
I'm not the kind of food-service person that would spit in a drink, but I just might switch your non-fat for whole if you annoy me enough.
My vacation. Just 12 more days and I'll be flying back to Texas to spend a glorious 11 days with my family, vacationing out at Big Bend.
The idea that this whole situation may be temporary. There's a good chance that the bank will be increasing my hours to almost full time, which would decrease the need for supplementary income. I should know in the next week or so.
So, maybe the bookstore-gig will be a short blip in time, which is good because being back in the Land of Books and Coffee makes me remember everything that annoyed me about coffee-orderers before. I already have one customer-service-oriented job; two makes me a little spazzy.
Customer: This frappacino is a little slushy. Could you remake it so that it's 'thicker'?
Me: Bite me! I mean, um, of course I can.
I think that there should be clear guidelines on ordering a drink. Like modifiers. Nobody should be allowed to use more than two modifiers on any one drink. Modifiers would include things like non-fat, soy, extra-hot, decaf, whatever. Because you know that thing in When Harry Met Sally, where Meg Ryan's character takes half an hour to order anything? Nobody but Harry thinks that's cute. And the waitress is definitely not laughing.
So a grande gingerbread latte, extra-hot no whip? OK! A soy decaf latte? Good! A caramel macchiato, lite on the syrup but with whipped cream? Fine! A grande gingerbread latte, but with soy milk, decaf espresso, no whip, no foam, and extra hot? For God's sake, get a life! You are nowhere near as important as you seem to think; just order a damn drink like everyone else. Thank you, and have a great day.
Whipped cream?
It's a yes-or-no question. Either you want it, or you don't. Do not say, "A little", "some", or "extra" in regards to whipped cream. Because those cups we mark? There's only room for a check mark, or a single word. the cup does not provide room for an essay on how you prefer your beverage. And by the way? Whever reason you had for choosing soy milk is kind of obliterated if you pile whipped cream on top of it.
Temperature.
Kid's drinks, especially hot chocolate? We understand the not-too-hot-please. Taking your drink on the road? Extra-hot is ok. I mean, sure it kinda ruins the milk to scald it like that, but hey, you asked. Do not give us a temperature, please. It is weird and kind of insulting to say, "Steam the milk to 140 degrees, if you would." Ok, do you work in the industry? If you're THAT PROUD of your espresso-machine knowledge, just wear your little apron everywhere you go, it's less of a headache.
Decaf
I'm with you here, people. I'm very caffeine-sensitive, and I drink only decaf after 5pm or so. But asking 500 times, "That's decaf, right?" as the barista makes your drink? If you are *that* worried about it, get an herbal tea or a hot chocolate or something. Because yeah, sometimes we do mess up, it's happened to my own beverages at times.
Just Plain Coffee
This is to all of you people that sneer at the idea of an espresso-based beverage and would rather drink truck-stop coffee than a Maple Machiatto. You know, that's ok. For every frou-frou drink, we probably sell three cups of drip. But there is no need to swagger up to the counter, squint menacingly at the menu board, and demand whether we have 'just regular coffee' while muttering about 4-dollar coffee drinks. Of course we serve coffee, and most people can order it politely, without sneering at the entire establishment. I'm sorry that our fancy-pants-four-dollar-coffee gives you an inferiority complex that you have to hide beneath bad manners; if a 50-cent cup of really bad coffee is what you want, there's a gas station on the corner.
I'm not the kind of food-service person that would spit in a drink, but I just might switch your non-fat for whole if you annoy me enough.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Gifts, or, Why Dumbledore wanted socks
Yesterday I was listening to this NPR story, which is about giving real presents versus money/ gift cards, and it really made me think about gifts, what we give, and why they matter. Because, they do matter.
Apparently, economists have long argued that giving cash is much more efficient ("better") because when buying a present we either get exactly what the receiver would have bought with the cash, or else get something they would not have bought, and therefore don't really want, therefore rather wasting the money that would have better been given as cash.
This is basically nonsense, though, as the guy on the radio pointed out. First of all, why assume that I would buy myself nice things if I had cash? I've got bills to pay, some debt to deal with, a house to save for. If someone gave me fifty dollars as a gift, most likely I'm not going to buy something fabulous with it, I'm going to spend it on next month's rent and electricity or else sock it into savings. That doesn't mean that I would value cash more, just that the economists don't take into account the complicated relationships people have with money. For example, when I graduated from college, my parents bought me a piano, which is the nicest thing that I own. It's a beautiful upright, shiny black, that dresses up the whole room and makes me want to take lessons again . . . It's a completely frivolous, impractical, luxury item, and I love it. I would never have bought myself a piano, though, if they had just handed me a wad of cash or a check, instead. I would have to be in a place financially in which everything else was taken care of, before I could ever, ever spend a big chunk of money on something like that. Gifts are often a luxury that we would not buy for ourselves.
Secondly, (and this was the main point that this new study makes) people value gifts, whatever they may be, especially because they're gifts. So what if I would never have bought yourself that paticular coffee mug-- Aunt Sue gave it to me and therefore I love it! This contradicts the either-it's-perfect-or-else-a-waste-of-money idea that the economists go by. Gifts gain in value simply by being given. You can't put a price on that warm fuzzy ya get from looking at or using a gift that was given by someone you care for, whether or not it was originally something you'd buy yourself.
Personally, I have a hard time parting with anything that was given to me. I'm especially noticing this now, because with this un-friend-ing thing that I'm going through; I've noticed more and more things that I have that were gifts from her, that I've held on to for years and years just because... can't get rid of gifts! Ever! Now, as we're still unpacking boxes (the stuff not necessary for day-to-day life like photos and knickknacks) I realize that I've held onto every gift and card that she ever gave me, like this purple ceramic... thing made in 7th-grade art class that has been at various times a flowerpot, a colored-pencil holder for my desk, and a spatula-and-spoon holder on my kitchen counter. It has that lumpy, endearing, hand-made look that usually only moms love, but I was so fond of it because it always reminded me of my friend, and since it was from seventh grade, it always made me think of how long we'd been friends... now thinking about that is painful, and I'm still trying to decide whether to keep this thing or not. That's the power of gift-giving, though. It creates something precious out of a lumpy, sparkly-purple ceramic thing that you wouldn't buy for a quarter at a garage sale.
The thing is, gifts say something about the relationship between the giver and the givee.
"I know you, and know what you'd like".
"I love you, and want you to have something nice".
"I don't know what I'm doing, but at least I'm trying. "
"I'm your mother and want you to have warm feet."
Exchanging gift cards--or cash-- doesn't really express a relationship the way that gifts do. Time and thought go into gift-purchasing or -creating. My mom gives me socks every year for Chanukah, sometimes pajamas and things, and it means a lot to me. Sure, she could give me 50 bucks or a Target gift card and I could go out and buy some socks, but the gift expresses something more than its cash value.
In Harry Potter, Dumbledore doesn't want socks in the first book, when asked what he sees in the Mirror of Erised that shows the heart's desire. Obviously he could go out and buy socks-- the thick, woolen socks that he mentions to Harry. What Dumbledore wants is to be given socks. His heart's desire is not for footwear (which apparently confused some readers) but for the kind of loving relationship that would result in a gift of socks. After all, who would give an old man (even a great, powerful, old man) socks? Who gives a gift that says, "I care about your personal comfort and warmth", a gift like the handmade sweater that Harry just received from Molly Weasley? A wife, a daughter, a grandchild? All Dumbledore ever got was books.
Apparently, economists have long argued that giving cash is much more efficient ("better") because when buying a present we either get exactly what the receiver would have bought with the cash, or else get something they would not have bought, and therefore don't really want, therefore rather wasting the money that would have better been given as cash.
This is basically nonsense, though, as the guy on the radio pointed out. First of all, why assume that I would buy myself nice things if I had cash? I've got bills to pay, some debt to deal with, a house to save for. If someone gave me fifty dollars as a gift, most likely I'm not going to buy something fabulous with it, I'm going to spend it on next month's rent and electricity or else sock it into savings. That doesn't mean that I would value cash more, just that the economists don't take into account the complicated relationships people have with money. For example, when I graduated from college, my parents bought me a piano, which is the nicest thing that I own. It's a beautiful upright, shiny black, that dresses up the whole room and makes me want to take lessons again . . . It's a completely frivolous, impractical, luxury item, and I love it. I would never have bought myself a piano, though, if they had just handed me a wad of cash or a check, instead. I would have to be in a place financially in which everything else was taken care of, before I could ever, ever spend a big chunk of money on something like that. Gifts are often a luxury that we would not buy for ourselves.
Secondly, (and this was the main point that this new study makes) people value gifts, whatever they may be, especially because they're gifts. So what if I would never have bought yourself that paticular coffee mug-- Aunt Sue gave it to me and therefore I love it! This contradicts the either-it's-perfect-or-else-a-waste-of-money idea that the economists go by. Gifts gain in value simply by being given. You can't put a price on that warm fuzzy ya get from looking at or using a gift that was given by someone you care for, whether or not it was originally something you'd buy yourself.
Personally, I have a hard time parting with anything that was given to me. I'm especially noticing this now, because with this un-friend-ing thing that I'm going through; I've noticed more and more things that I have that were gifts from her, that I've held on to for years and years just because... can't get rid of gifts! Ever! Now, as we're still unpacking boxes (the stuff not necessary for day-to-day life like photos and knickknacks) I realize that I've held onto every gift and card that she ever gave me, like this purple ceramic... thing made in 7th-grade art class that has been at various times a flowerpot, a colored-pencil holder for my desk, and a spatula-and-spoon holder on my kitchen counter. It has that lumpy, endearing, hand-made look that usually only moms love, but I was so fond of it because it always reminded me of my friend, and since it was from seventh grade, it always made me think of how long we'd been friends... now thinking about that is painful, and I'm still trying to decide whether to keep this thing or not. That's the power of gift-giving, though. It creates something precious out of a lumpy, sparkly-purple ceramic thing that you wouldn't buy for a quarter at a garage sale.
The thing is, gifts say something about the relationship between the giver and the givee.
"I know you, and know what you'd like".
"I love you, and want you to have something nice".
"I don't know what I'm doing, but at least I'm trying. "
"I'm your mother and want you to have warm feet."
Exchanging gift cards--or cash-- doesn't really express a relationship the way that gifts do. Time and thought go into gift-purchasing or -creating. My mom gives me socks every year for Chanukah, sometimes pajamas and things, and it means a lot to me. Sure, she could give me 50 bucks or a Target gift card and I could go out and buy some socks, but the gift expresses something more than its cash value.
In Harry Potter, Dumbledore doesn't want socks in the first book, when asked what he sees in the Mirror of Erised that shows the heart's desire. Obviously he could go out and buy socks-- the thick, woolen socks that he mentions to Harry. What Dumbledore wants is to be given socks. His heart's desire is not for footwear (which apparently confused some readers) but for the kind of loving relationship that would result in a gift of socks. After all, who would give an old man (even a great, powerful, old man) socks? Who gives a gift that says, "I care about your personal comfort and warmth", a gift like the handmade sweater that Harry just received from Molly Weasley? A wife, a daughter, a grandchild? All Dumbledore ever got was books.
Kids... really just an excuse to play with toys
Don and I have a holiday tradition of getting one of the Salvation Army angels instead of buying presents for my parents, who already have everything they want or need. So we spent Saturday shopping for someone that we had only the barest information on, which is difficult. First. Why is all the boy's clothing at Target non-cotton? Is it that hard to sell shirts and things that are 100% cotton and reasonably good quality? Old Navy does it... Old Navy turns out to have better clothing at better prices than Target as far as little boy stuff goes. But, they don't sell Thomas trains.
Second. The Salvation Army in Texas went into a lot more detail and care than the one here. They give out an informational brochure that explains what to buy, how much to spend (they reccomend about 100 dollars), what to do with your purchases, etc. They give a stack of labels and big bags, so that you can write the serial number of your 'angel' on a label and stick it to each shirt, toy, whatever, to ensure that they end up with the right kid. And each 'angel' card has a wants and needs list in addition to all the clothing sizes, so that it says something like this: "Joey, age 4, sizes blah blah blah, needs winter coat, shoes, and jeans. Wants Spider-man stuff." Because the point is to provide a 'complete' holiday for that child, with the toys they want and necessities to get growing kids through the rest of winter.
The SA here does not give brochures, tags, or bags. They don't give a suggested spending amount. Their Angel cards don't list needs/wants, just the size of the child and their desired toy, so that ours said "Joey, age four, sizes..., Thomas the Tank Engine train." So basically, if I hadn't been doing this for years and was new at this I would assume that all I was supposed to do was... buy a toy train! My mom always stressed the winter coat, shoes, and jeans. So basically I'm wondering about what these SA angels get, compared to the ones back home.
When you're with someone like Don (i.e. boyish, likes toys, still in love with trains), never stand in front of the Thomas the Tank Engine display and say, "Ok, Don, pretend you're 4. Which Thomas train set do you want?" Because you will be at that Target display for 20 minutes, examining each train, and walking out with the biggest, most expensive ThTE train set that Target offers--but the coolest, according to One Who Knows Trains!
Third, the Salvation Army informational thingie said that our little guy wears a size-12 toddler shoe. Does that mean that he wore a size-12 at the time the form was filled out which was probably over 6 weeks ago and now he wears something bigger and size-12s would be too small? From what I understand kids go through shoes really fast, right? Or are the powers that be thinking ahead and filling out the form with the size that they think he'll be wearing by Christmas, when this stuff will be received? Because we found a pair of size-12 Thomas the Tank engine shoes! Which will either be totally cool or really dissapointing depending on the fit.
Second. The Salvation Army in Texas went into a lot more detail and care than the one here. They give out an informational brochure that explains what to buy, how much to spend (they reccomend about 100 dollars), what to do with your purchases, etc. They give a stack of labels and big bags, so that you can write the serial number of your 'angel' on a label and stick it to each shirt, toy, whatever, to ensure that they end up with the right kid. And each 'angel' card has a wants and needs list in addition to all the clothing sizes, so that it says something like this: "Joey, age 4, sizes blah blah blah, needs winter coat, shoes, and jeans. Wants Spider-man stuff." Because the point is to provide a 'complete' holiday for that child, with the toys they want and necessities to get growing kids through the rest of winter.
The SA here does not give brochures, tags, or bags. They don't give a suggested spending amount. Their Angel cards don't list needs/wants, just the size of the child and their desired toy, so that ours said "Joey, age four, sizes..., Thomas the Tank Engine train." So basically, if I hadn't been doing this for years and was new at this I would assume that all I was supposed to do was... buy a toy train! My mom always stressed the winter coat, shoes, and jeans. So basically I'm wondering about what these SA angels get, compared to the ones back home.
When you're with someone like Don (i.e. boyish, likes toys, still in love with trains), never stand in front of the Thomas the Tank Engine display and say, "Ok, Don, pretend you're 4. Which Thomas train set do you want?" Because you will be at that Target display for 20 minutes, examining each train, and walking out with the biggest, most expensive ThTE train set that Target offers--but the coolest, according to One Who Knows Trains!
Third, the Salvation Army informational thingie said that our little guy wears a size-12 toddler shoe. Does that mean that he wore a size-12 at the time the form was filled out which was probably over 6 weeks ago and now he wears something bigger and size-12s would be too small? From what I understand kids go through shoes really fast, right? Or are the powers that be thinking ahead and filling out the form with the size that they think he'll be wearing by Christmas, when this stuff will be received? Because we found a pair of size-12 Thomas the Tank engine shoes! Which will either be totally cool or really dissapointing depending on the fit.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Christmas Ramble
The weather here has finally turned winter-y, and it feels holidayish. Last night it even snowed, for about ten minutes. I was finishing up in the cafe when I looked up to see the snow swirling under the parking-lot lights, something I haven't seen since Vermont. Speaking of which, it turns out that my supervisor is from Burlington. Not just Burlington, but the very neighborhood that Don and I lived in. He described the area in such detail (going over his childhood paper-route) that I felt very nostalgic and homesick for a moment. It's funny how easy it is to be homesick for a place I only lived in for 2 years, while Texas still doesn't inspire much of that feeling and I grew up there. I'm sure spending another (6-month-long) winter in Vermont would cure me pretty quick, right Becca?
I'm noticing this year that I've become much mellower and less cynical about "the holidays" than I was in years past. As a non-Christian, Christmas means exactly nothing to me as a holiday, and I've had trouble trying to figure out why it is THE HOLIDAY, the day that controls everything from television to the stock market to travel. "Christmas" seems so far removed from any religious meaning that I actually sympathise with the put-Christ-back-in-Christmas types trying to reclaim what would seem to be the most important (?) holy day of their faith. Christmas is *actually* about the following (according to all T.V. commercials, movies, songs, and other culture-bearers of our time): Family. Spending time with family. Food. Showing love, ideally by buying the right presents. Presents. Santa Claus. Shopping. Chocolate. Shopping. Presents. Family. They keep re-running these awful old Christmas movies from when Don was a kid (probably earlier) that all seem to be clay-mation or puppet-based and feature Santa, Mrs. Claus, Rudolph, and various elves.
Don has tried to convince me to have "Christmas spirit" by calling me the Grinch, and by insisting that there's absolutely nothing Christian about it and to see it as a fun excuse to decorate, bake cookies, drink eggnog, light candles. Each time I say, "Spell it, Don. Spell the word Christmas. C-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s. " I basically stand by my refusal to celebrate the birth of a religion that has nothing to do with me. But like I said, lately I'm mellowing and trying to take a broader view.
To the marketing executive, government officials, and other powers-that-be, the fact that so many religions have holidays that converge in December must seem like a god-send. It's not so PC in this wonderfully diverse, separate-church-from-state country to make everything Christmas, and so we get "holidays" instead. Holiday greetings, holiday season, season's greetings. Holiday cookies. Wonderful coincidence, that Hannukah, Christmas, Kwanzaa et al coincide like that and give us the generic Holiday, right?
Not much of a coincidence really. We're all celebrating the same thing, and it's not what our respective religions would dictate. More like a primal human urge to fight the darkness and cold that descend each winter, to thumb our noses at the darkest night of the year--the Winter Solstice--with light, noise, and celebration. The most basic of human instinct covered with a thin veneer of religion. The more I consider this, the less annoyed with Christmas I feel; it's just the modern, American version of an ancient tradition. After all, what are the symbols of Christmas? Light, light light... lights on houses, trees, everywhere. Neighborhoods and townscapes lit up at night. Christmas trees, wreaths, and greenery that celebrate the fact that even in the dead of winter, something is green and alive--does a Christmas tree or sprig of holly have anything to do with Christianity? Nope. And there's the feasting and song, gathering together as kin and friend. Chanukah is also celebrated with light, song, and food. So, I think I'll go bake some cookies, and celebrate humanity's triumph over the dark night.
I'm noticing this year that I've become much mellower and less cynical about "the holidays" than I was in years past. As a non-Christian, Christmas means exactly nothing to me as a holiday, and I've had trouble trying to figure out why it is THE HOLIDAY, the day that controls everything from television to the stock market to travel. "Christmas" seems so far removed from any religious meaning that I actually sympathise with the put-Christ-back-in-Christmas types trying to reclaim what would seem to be the most important (?) holy day of their faith. Christmas is *actually* about the following (according to all T.V. commercials, movies, songs, and other culture-bearers of our time): Family. Spending time with family. Food. Showing love, ideally by buying the right presents. Presents. Santa Claus. Shopping. Chocolate. Shopping. Presents. Family. They keep re-running these awful old Christmas movies from when Don was a kid (probably earlier) that all seem to be clay-mation or puppet-based and feature Santa, Mrs. Claus, Rudolph, and various elves.
Don has tried to convince me to have "Christmas spirit" by calling me the Grinch, and by insisting that there's absolutely nothing Christian about it and to see it as a fun excuse to decorate, bake cookies, drink eggnog, light candles. Each time I say, "Spell it, Don. Spell the word Christmas. C-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s. " I basically stand by my refusal to celebrate the birth of a religion that has nothing to do with me. But like I said, lately I'm mellowing and trying to take a broader view.
To the marketing executive, government officials, and other powers-that-be, the fact that so many religions have holidays that converge in December must seem like a god-send. It's not so PC in this wonderfully diverse, separate-church-from-state country to make everything Christmas, and so we get "holidays" instead. Holiday greetings, holiday season, season's greetings. Holiday cookies. Wonderful coincidence, that Hannukah, Christmas, Kwanzaa et al coincide like that and give us the generic Holiday, right?
Not much of a coincidence really. We're all celebrating the same thing, and it's not what our respective religions would dictate. More like a primal human urge to fight the darkness and cold that descend each winter, to thumb our noses at the darkest night of the year--the Winter Solstice--with light, noise, and celebration. The most basic of human instinct covered with a thin veneer of religion. The more I consider this, the less annoyed with Christmas I feel; it's just the modern, American version of an ancient tradition. After all, what are the symbols of Christmas? Light, light light... lights on houses, trees, everywhere. Neighborhoods and townscapes lit up at night. Christmas trees, wreaths, and greenery that celebrate the fact that even in the dead of winter, something is green and alive--does a Christmas tree or sprig of holly have anything to do with Christianity? Nope. And there's the feasting and song, gathering together as kin and friend. Chanukah is also celebrated with light, song, and food. So, I think I'll go bake some cookies, and celebrate humanity's triumph over the dark night.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Customer Service
I like working with people. Really I do. It makes my day interesting and connected. But sometimes the naivety, the inexperience, the sheer airheadedness of some of my customers just amazes me. Everyone knows what Darwin Awards are, right? The "award" given to those people stupid enough to accidentally kill themselves, thereby taking themselves out of the genepool? I'm proposing a new honor for financial idiocy. Instead of losing your life, you lose your money! I'm thinking I'll call it the Franklin Award.
ATMs take customer deposits. Pretty simple, really; insert card (as for every other transaction, yes?) enter PIN (again, just like taking money out or checking the balance) and from there choose the "Deposit" option and follow instructions. Eventually you insert an envelope containing said deposit of checks or cash into an envelope-slot on the machine. The slot is only "open" or activated during the deposit process to keep random things from being shoved into it and to make sure that each deposited envelope receives a printed validation from the machine.
I've seen some pretty weird stuff when sorting the ATM deposits: someone who decided against an envelope and inserted individual bills into the machine, one at a time; someone who attempted to deposit coins. But the other day we had a girl come in and complain that her ATM deposit never got posted to her account.
Turns out she was skipping that whole "use your ATM card at the ATM" thing and merely shoving the envelope between the ATM and the wall. Like, into this narrow little crack (not really even big enough to fit the envelope into!) where the wall-mounted ATM sits against the drywall. How did she think that this qualified as "making a deposit"? HOW? My supervisor was on the phone with the ATM people all that morning, trying to find out if they could send a technician to dismantle the ATM and get this winner her check back.
Seriously, Franklin Awards! They'll catch on! The really funny thing is that she insists that she's been "making deposits" this way for two years, and that they've all gotten into her account fine. Yeah, and I send mail by owl post and it always arrives!
ATMs take customer deposits. Pretty simple, really; insert card (as for every other transaction, yes?) enter PIN (again, just like taking money out or checking the balance) and from there choose the "Deposit" option and follow instructions. Eventually you insert an envelope containing said deposit of checks or cash into an envelope-slot on the machine. The slot is only "open" or activated during the deposit process to keep random things from being shoved into it and to make sure that each deposited envelope receives a printed validation from the machine.
I've seen some pretty weird stuff when sorting the ATM deposits: someone who decided against an envelope and inserted individual bills into the machine, one at a time; someone who attempted to deposit coins. But the other day we had a girl come in and complain that her ATM deposit never got posted to her account.
Turns out she was skipping that whole "use your ATM card at the ATM" thing and merely shoving the envelope between the ATM and the wall. Like, into this narrow little crack (not really even big enough to fit the envelope into!) where the wall-mounted ATM sits against the drywall. How did she think that this qualified as "making a deposit"? HOW? My supervisor was on the phone with the ATM people all that morning, trying to find out if they could send a technician to dismantle the ATM and get this winner her check back.
Seriously, Franklin Awards! They'll catch on! The really funny thing is that she insists that she's been "making deposits" this way for two years, and that they've all gotten into her account fine. Yeah, and I send mail by owl post and it always arrives!
You are The Tower
Ambition, fighting, war, courage. Destruction, danger, fall, ruin.
The Tower represents war, destruction, but also spiritual renewal. Plans are disrupted. Your views and ideas will change as a result.
The Tower is a card about war, a war between the structures of lies and the lightning flash of truth. The Tower stands for "false concepts and institutions that we take for real." You have been shaken up; blinded by a shocking revelation. It sometimes takes that to see a truth that one refuses to see. Or to bring down beliefs that are so well constructed. What's most important to remember is that the tearing down of this structure, however painful, makes room for something new to be built.
What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.
Well, that's surprising. Go figure...
Thursday, November 30, 2006
The neverending post
The weather here has been freakishly beautiful the last week or so, with balmy 60-degree days instead of the late-November freezing coldness that I would expect. I know that any day now it will revert to normal, but it's so nice. It makes everything more enjoyable-- my walks with Alice, even just getting to work. Every day I walk through the University grounds and past this 
chapel, which I just love. (I didn't take this picture, obviously. Stock internet photo.) From the outside it's like a tiny, ancient-looking cathedral, all stone arches, Gothic towers, stained glass, and gargoyles. You know, Hogwarts-y. Inside it's just dark and religiousish. It's completely different than the rest of the campus, which is all red-brick federal-style buildings. Also pretty, but not as loveable.
I've been feeling a little sick lately, nothing awful but a persistent sore throat and low-grade fever. It's probably from the sudden increase in stress and activity from the second job, working such long hours. The fever has been giving me funky weird dreams, especially revolving around my former-friend-drama from last month. Dreams in which we're shopping, having fun. Suddenly she's on the other side of the store and refuses to look at me even as I'm trying to walk over, and the store gets bigger and bigger. The logical side of my mind has decided to let the whole thing go, to recognize that there are a lot of issues involved, that aren't mine to deal with. To recognize the fact that neither the friend nor the friendship were what I thought they were. But I guess the ol' subconscious hasn't been listening to the rational.
This post has taken me days to actually finish as I have so much less time to write, or, you know, sleep, or anything. I've never been so grateful for the weekend to finally arrive, especially after yesterday's 8:30 a.m.- midnight workday. I've spent today doing nothing but resting. Don spent his day off cleaning and setting up my desk in the living room, so that right now I'm actually sitting in a chair, at a desk, to use the computer. Whatever would I do without him? We are in the middle of watching each extended-version Lord of the Rings movie, which should culminate either tonight or tomorrow. Good times, good times. I'm attempting free-hand chicken enchiladas tonight, because I'm a little homesick for Tex-Mex goodness and a little spicy will do me good.
chapel, which I just love. (I didn't take this picture, obviously. Stock internet photo.) From the outside it's like a tiny, ancient-looking cathedral, all stone arches, Gothic towers, stained glass, and gargoyles. You know, Hogwarts-y. Inside it's just dark and religiousish. It's completely different than the rest of the campus, which is all red-brick federal-style buildings. Also pretty, but not as loveable.I've been feeling a little sick lately, nothing awful but a persistent sore throat and low-grade fever. It's probably from the sudden increase in stress and activity from the second job, working such long hours. The fever has been giving me funky weird dreams, especially revolving around my former-friend-drama from last month. Dreams in which we're shopping, having fun. Suddenly she's on the other side of the store and refuses to look at me even as I'm trying to walk over, and the store gets bigger and bigger. The logical side of my mind has decided to let the whole thing go, to recognize that there are a lot of issues involved, that aren't mine to deal with. To recognize the fact that neither the friend nor the friendship were what I thought they were. But I guess the ol' subconscious hasn't been listening to the rational.
This post has taken me days to actually finish as I have so much less time to write, or, you know, sleep, or anything. I've never been so grateful for the weekend to finally arrive, especially after yesterday's 8:30 a.m.- midnight workday. I've spent today doing nothing but resting. Don spent his day off cleaning and setting up my desk in the living room, so that right now I'm actually sitting in a chair, at a desk, to use the computer. Whatever would I do without him? We are in the middle of watching each extended-version Lord of the Rings movie, which should culminate either tonight or tomorrow. Good times, good times. I'm attempting free-hand chicken enchiladas tonight, because I'm a little homesick for Tex-Mex goodness and a little spicy will do me good.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
You paid attention during 100% of high school!
85-100% You must be an autodidact, because American high schools don't get scores that high! Good show, old chap!
Do you deserve your high school diploma?
Create a Quiz
Which is funny, because I got crap grades in high school and barely remember most of it.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Over-worked and over-stuffed
Ohhh, so much stuff going on. So little energy. Started the second job this week, the bookstore/cafe shindig. Different company, different city, but it feels exactly like Borders. Same sarcastic staff, same routines, procedures, ideas. It's scarily familiar. Apparently working an espresso machine is like driving a car... you never forget. Standing behind the machine, it was like I'd been steaming milk and making mochas every day for the last 2 years. But this place is so busy that closing means getting out at or even after midnight, which is rough so far. Tuesday I ended up working from 8:30 in the morning until midnight (16 hours. Sixteen) by stupidly overscheduling myself. Not used to juggling 2 work schedules yet, but it should get better when I get everything balanced into place and get on a regular routine. My body hurts, my back. It's not used to working so long, and standing.
Thanksgiving was fun. Don and I decided to do a sort of Thanksgiving-lite, not calorie-wise (yeah, right) but just the number of dishes and amount of work. So we did the turkey, the bread, the cranberries, the mashed potatoes, the gravy and one pie. Bought the other pie, and skipped the stuffing, the yams, the green beans... it was fun, a glorious mess in the kitchen. The turkey came out a little dry (I'm totally blaming the oven for this one) but nothing the gravy couldn't fix. The gravy... soooo gooood. And with it being just the two of us, we have enough leftovers for days. I was getting kind of homesick, with it being my favorite holiday of the whole year and all. But my parents didn't even 'do' Thanksgiving this year; they went to New Mexico to look at vacation homes in the mountains. Looks like Don and I'll have a place to vacate to pretty soon!
We bought two really nice dining chairs from World Market, the night before Thanksgiving. Pretty, see?
And so comfortable. Don was actually worried that they're too stylish for us, that they won't feel as though they belong with the rest of our stuff. But they're wonderful, and on sale, so he was swayed despite their chic-ness. I'm trying to convince him that we need to buy two more, before they are discontinued or something so that we'll have a whole set, but he's not going for it yet, something about having nowhere to put them and not wanting to buy furniture just to put it in the bedroom closet.
It's nice, now we have a kitchen big enough for a table and chairs, and we have chairs, too!
Thanksgiving was fun. Don and I decided to do a sort of Thanksgiving-lite, not calorie-wise (yeah, right) but just the number of dishes and amount of work. So we did the turkey, the bread, the cranberries, the mashed potatoes, the gravy and one pie. Bought the other pie, and skipped the stuffing, the yams, the green beans... it was fun, a glorious mess in the kitchen. The turkey came out a little dry (I'm totally blaming the oven for this one) but nothing the gravy couldn't fix. The gravy... soooo gooood. And with it being just the two of us, we have enough leftovers for days. I was getting kind of homesick, with it being my favorite holiday of the whole year and all. But my parents didn't even 'do' Thanksgiving this year; they went to New Mexico to look at vacation homes in the mountains. Looks like Don and I'll have a place to vacate to pretty soon!
We bought two really nice dining chairs from World Market, the night before Thanksgiving. Pretty, see?
And so comfortable. Don was actually worried that they're too stylish for us, that they won't feel as though they belong with the rest of our stuff. But they're wonderful, and on sale, so he was swayed despite their chic-ness. I'm trying to convince him that we need to buy two more, before they are discontinued or something so that we'll have a whole set, but he's not going for it yet, something about having nowhere to put them and not wanting to buy furniture just to put it in the bedroom closet. It's nice, now we have a kitchen big enough for a table and chairs, and we have chairs, too!
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Take me home
Officially one whole month here in Virginia, and the homesickness is starting to creep in. I think it's because the first part of the move feels like a vacation or a grand adventure-- it's all about discovering a new place and having fun. In addition, being reunited with Don after such a long separation felt so good that it drove any bad feelings out for awhile; it was like a honeymoon and I really wasn't thinking about anybody but the two of us, as evidenced by the mushy posts previous.
By homesickness, I really just mean missing family and friends, because Texas itself... well, there's not so much to miss. I don't miss the weather, the pollution, the traffic, the utter blandness. Sorry Texas, but Virginia's gotcha beat physically. I'm really starting to miss my family and friends, though, back home. I'm very grateful that we're taking a family vacation next month, so I'll be seeing them soon, but I feel slightly overwhelmed at the idea of a two-person Thanksgiving. If only I had a really close friend who lived a few blocks away and loved to cook, so that we could spend two whole days baking and cooking for Thanksgiving while our husbands gradually drank all the beer! Oh wait, that was Vermont. Never mind. (Hi Becca!)
I wish Don was coming with me on the trip next month as we originally planned, but c'est la vie, I guess. It was much more important that he go home to his own parents at such a crucial time and there's only so much vacation time to go around. I'm just glad that my parents see him as such a part of the family now that he's automatically invited on all the vacations and everything, because I hope that this tradition of taking family trips together even as adults continues but I only want to go if Don can, too, not if it involves leaving him behind. And I like the fact that Don likes my family enough to be enthusiastic about the idea of travelling with them, rather than just taking vacations by ourselves. But on the bright side, we don't have to find somebody to watch Cathy and Alice, since he'll still be here for this one.
This has been such a tumultous year; so much has happened, so much has changed. I need some time to just reflect, to recharge my batteries before next year, because I feel instinctively that the coming year will be just as eventful, possibly even chaotic. From here on out I'll be working two jobs and a lot more hours, and while it will be nice to have the money in the bank and to meet more people, I'm afraid of not getting that time to just think, to sort everything out that's in my mind so that I can move on with a clear head. Sometimes I tend to block painful thoughts instead of working through them, or I don't revisit certain emotional areas and they come back unexpectedly. In a meeting at work yesterday, my boss told a story about her mother who is in her nineties, which made me spontaneously cry because I suddenly remembered my Grandma, who was 95 when she passed away last March. Even though I've grieved for her and accepted that she has gone, the sudden re-realization that I'll never see her again was overwhelming. Maybe Don's mother's cancer and his anxiety over losing his parents has brought my own fears closer to the surface? I don't know.
By homesickness, I really just mean missing family and friends, because Texas itself... well, there's not so much to miss. I don't miss the weather, the pollution, the traffic, the utter blandness. Sorry Texas, but Virginia's gotcha beat physically. I'm really starting to miss my family and friends, though, back home. I'm very grateful that we're taking a family vacation next month, so I'll be seeing them soon, but I feel slightly overwhelmed at the idea of a two-person Thanksgiving. If only I had a really close friend who lived a few blocks away and loved to cook, so that we could spend two whole days baking and cooking for Thanksgiving while our husbands gradually drank all the beer! Oh wait, that was Vermont. Never mind. (Hi Becca!)
I wish Don was coming with me on the trip next month as we originally planned, but c'est la vie, I guess. It was much more important that he go home to his own parents at such a crucial time and there's only so much vacation time to go around. I'm just glad that my parents see him as such a part of the family now that he's automatically invited on all the vacations and everything, because I hope that this tradition of taking family trips together even as adults continues but I only want to go if Don can, too, not if it involves leaving him behind. And I like the fact that Don likes my family enough to be enthusiastic about the idea of travelling with them, rather than just taking vacations by ourselves. But on the bright side, we don't have to find somebody to watch Cathy and Alice, since he'll still be here for this one.
This has been such a tumultous year; so much has happened, so much has changed. I need some time to just reflect, to recharge my batteries before next year, because I feel instinctively that the coming year will be just as eventful, possibly even chaotic. From here on out I'll be working two jobs and a lot more hours, and while it will be nice to have the money in the bank and to meet more people, I'm afraid of not getting that time to just think, to sort everything out that's in my mind so that I can move on with a clear head. Sometimes I tend to block painful thoughts instead of working through them, or I don't revisit certain emotional areas and they come back unexpectedly. In a meeting at work yesterday, my boss told a story about her mother who is in her nineties, which made me spontaneously cry because I suddenly remembered my Grandma, who was 95 when she passed away last March. Even though I've grieved for her and accepted that she has gone, the sudden re-realization that I'll never see her again was overwhelming. Maybe Don's mother's cancer and his anxiety over losing his parents has brought my own fears closer to the surface? I don't know.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
