The Next Dark Age
We're in it Now
Sip Your Slurpee and Think Happy Thoughts
When I was in college, I had a Slurpee-a-Day habit. The 7-11 was about a mile from my dorm, and right by the Metro, and I walked over there all the time. Sometimes I brought people with me but mostly I went by myself. If I was having a bad day, a Slurpee made it better. If I was having a good day, a Slurpee made it great. And that was before I discovered putting vodka in my cup.
Of course, it was not the Slurpee that made the world ok. It was the getting off campus, putting on the headphones and clearing my head. But by the time I graduated, I had convinced the entire sixth floor (and some of the seventh) that a Slurpee could fix anything.
So I was driving home tonight, at the end of a really great weekend. Even getting a flat tire yesterday didn’t wreck it. Because by the time help arrived, I had read my car manual and found the hidden tools and the spare and about convinced myself that I could handle it myself if it were really necessary.
That led to the thought that tomorrow morning I will have to get out the door early so as to drop my car off with my real mechanic so he can patch my real tire and put it back on. And I will take my mother’s car and drop her off at her office, which will definitely make me late getting in to my own on a day that I don’t have a minute to spare because the seminar starts Wednesday. And I’ll have to leave early in order to pick her up and get my car and then head to the Library meeting and ohmygod will I even make it home in time for kickoff.
Right that second I came up on the local 7-11. It used to be a White Hen Pantry and by the time it started carrying Slurpees, I had long since dropped the habit. I hit the brakes and swerved in.
Which you are not supposed to do while driving on a spare tire. But it was fine.
And there they were, on the back wall. I was tentative at first – I didn’t even remember which size cup was right. I remembered that The Big One is too big. Then I remembered that you put the lid on first. Then I remembered to go slow because if the consistency is wrong, it will erupt. I didn’t get the perfect fill of the dome, but I didn’t spill either.
I was smiling before I even got up to the counter.
It. Still. Works.
I had a great weekend. And I am going to rock this week.
Public Service Announcement – For the Ladies
Not long ago, I read an article that said 80% of women are wearing the wrong size bra. So I went to the Nordstrom Lingerie department for a measurement. I was one of those women.
At dinner with some girlfriends last night, I found that a non-zero number of my friends had also gone in to be measured recently. (I wish I could cite that article. We all must have read it.) In one case, a lady who thought herself a B-cup all her life measured out to a DD.
The right bra will make you look better and feel better and your clothes will fit better. I can recommend Nordstrom. Another friend that went there for a fitting said that she had previously thought Nordstrom an expensive “old lady” store, but she was very happy with the service and will be going back. Another friend went to Tina’s Closet in Lisle and was very happy. (Tina also does Girls Night parties on Wednesdays, if you make a reservation. The calendar on her website suggests they are booked regularly.)
So go now. Get a professional fitting. You will be glad that you did.
E and I
Weekend Assignment #337: Lone Wolf, or Part of the Pack?
Some people are happiest when they’re part of a group. They may be leader of the pack, or actively contribute to the group’s efforts, or simply hang out with the others for companionship, and any scraps they may get. Other people are more the lone wolf type: the explorers, the loners, given to solitary effort and independent thought. Where do you prefer to function in human society: as part of a group, or your own, or in some combination of the two?
Extra Credit: Is there a group with which you’re currently affiliated that is especially important to you? What is your relationship with that group?
Myers and Briggs will tell you that I am an extrovert. I talk with people all day long and you can’t shut me up. I think out loud and sometimes I say too much. My mother will tell you that I become more introverted every year. I go to lunch by myself and want the world to shut up and let me read my book. The last two vacations I have taken were by myself (which the Canadian at Customs refused to believe).
I am probably just moody.
I have more than one pack. My work community is totally separate from the Library community, which is separate from the Rescue community, which is separate from my high school friends and even they barely mixed with my college friends.
I wouldn’t say that one group is more special to me that the others. I have long felt my identity closely associated with my work. On the other hand, our new Library is opening in two weeks and that is pretty special. And the Rescue is adopting out three birds in the next couple of weeks, which is huge. And I have Girls Night Out with some high school friends tomorrow, which is awesome.
So which is the wolf that wanders from pack to pack?
An Unpleasant Subject
USA Today ran an unpleasant, but useful article on pet necropsies. Most of the time, there is no reason to have one performed. But the article lists some reasons that you might, and noted something that I didn’t know:
Sometimes, when you sign off on euthanizing a pet, you might be authorizing the vet to perform one.
I have lost count of all of the animals that have come and gone from my house, and I only had one performed. It was on my late, great cockatoo, Hawk. Molluccan Cockatoos live 50ish years and Hawk was only 25ish when he died rather suddenly. Because I was/am volunteering at a parrot rescue, it was important to me to confirm that he didn’t die of a contagious disease. The results gave me some comfort and some trauma: he had heart disease. This makes sense because we fed him the same terrible seed-based diet that everyone fed their parrots back in the day.
The article notes that necropsies are helpful to the doctors that care for our pets. Every case they can learn from makes for better care for all of our other pets. I’m thinking Hawk would be good with that, too.
The New TV Season
I’m not watching any new TV shows.
I finished Season One of Mad Men the other day and have no more new TV on DVDs so I actually watched a movie. A film. A two-hour story. I don’t think I have seen a movie since the new Star Trek. So I watched The Reader. As in The Kate Winslet Oscar Movie. Apparently, I recorded it last March when Showtime was having a free preview weekend.
I liked watching a movie. And I think I have that book, too.
So I have decided (now that Lost and 24 are over) that there is no longer any such thing as Must See TV. Not in real time, anyway. (Except I accidentally watched Shit My Dad Says tonight. Luckily, it wasn’t all that great.)
I shall watch football. And Diggnation. And all of the DVDs in my house that I haven’t seen yet. And maybe I will buy some more. So wake me up around mid-season if anything good is on.
This is very liberating.
Dear Ted
I had lunch with some colleagues at your restaurant, Ted’s Bulletin, in Washington DC last month. The menu had plenty of things for picky people like me and I was most pleased with the grilled cheese and tomato soup. (What is it with the grilled cheese lately?) Unfortunately, I was too full to try the house-made twinkies or pop-tarts. But I took your matches so I would be sure to remember to have dinner there sometime. Seriously. On 8th street. In Eastern Market.
The matches were terrible. I use matches on my candles every day and this soft-pack was extremely difficult to strike up. And so sparky that I twice – twice – dropped the lit match and nearly burned my house down.
I know, I know. Why would I continue to use a pack of matches that tried to burn my house down once? I guess I just like danger. Or I am terribly cheap. Or I refuse to be defeated by a pack of matches.
Anyway, the design of your website suggests to me that you are catering to the Rat Pack. You might want to correct this problem before Mr. Sinatra comes to visit.
Mad Men, Season One
http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=leartojugg-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B000YABIQ6&fc1=000000&IS2=1<1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifrI picked up season one of Mad Men on DVD because everyone and their Emmy said it was great.
The setting is Manhattan, 1960. An advertising agency and the people that are employed there. The men drink, sell stuff to the clients, harass their assistants, drink, cheat on their wives and drink. And smoke.
It messed with my head straight away because last year when our CEO (a lady not much older than I) was first promoted, a friend and colleague was nearly in tears. She said, “I am so proud of you girls. You and C – and J– and (names a couple of other professional ladies in my age group) have all done so well. You don’t understand what it was like when I was young. Have you ever seen Mad Men?”
I hadn’t.
“Well, it was just like that. The drinking and the grabbing and the crying in the ladies room.”
So the first episode is introducing the characters, none of whom I find particularly sympathetic. The men are beyond insufferable and the women are dependant and powerless. The second episode is literally called, “Ladies Room”. With the crying. And I was ready to call it a night.
But not long after that, something started to spark. Perhaps it was Rachel, the young lady running her father’s department store. She appeared to have a brain. Or Betsy, the perfect suburban wife, beginning to show dimension. Or Peggy, who might be a real career girl, rocking the lipstick account. I started rooting for them. And then they would disappoint me. And then I’d root for them again.
Every character (even the men) had their moments. Sometimes, I wanted to slap them and sometimes I thought, “OK, then.” And sometimes I was pretty impressed. Seriously – Peggy explaining to a room full of those..men..about the merits of the weight-loss tool (later named “Relaxiciser”) without imploding was pretty smooth.
This could all crash and burn pretty easily, but I think I am in for Season 2.
The Magic Housekeeper
Weekend Assignment #336: Magic Button
If you could have a magic button that would do one particular thing for you, up to once a day, what would that function be?
Extra Credit: Would your answer to the above change if it were a person doing the task (for free and without complaint, using ordinary human abilities) rather than a magic button?
I am sure there is an answer here involving world peace and saving the whales and feeding the homeless. But I am feeling selfish today.
The easy answer is that I want a magic button to give me money. Every day. $1,000 should do it – don’t want to be greedy. I have a long, long list of things that I would do with an extra $1,000 each day.
But that is a boring answer. And I certainly wouldn’t want a person to have to give me $1,000 a day. Well. Maybe Oprah.
I am sorry to say my next best answer is no less boring – I want my house to be magically cleaned every day. Including litter boxes. Since it would take one person an entire day to do that, that answer would have to change, too.
So. If I could magically get a person to do something in particular for me, up to once a day, I guess it would be..make dinner?
I know, I lack imagination. I’m not in the habit of wishing for things.
Game Time Conversation
Bears Game. The Cowboys are returning a punt. The rookie has plenty of room. He hits about the 30 and I knew he was taking it to the house.
Me: OH MY GAAWWWWD!!!! (In a bad way)
Kiwi: WHAT?!
Me: Um…football. Bad.
Kiwi: Are you OK?
Me: No. Not OK.
Kiwi: Do you want your apple?
This is what I am talking about. She doesn’t have a ton of vocab. But she understands context. And conversation!
The Downside and the Upside
Today was the official Take the Kids Apple Picking Day. My brother and I took Alex and Ainslie to Oriole Springs – for the pick-your-own apples – and their neighbor, Harvest Time, to snag some cider doughnuts. Last year, I stood in line for nearly half an hour to place an order, only to find the wait would be another hour. We had to skip it.
So. We got the kids in the car. It started to rain. As we arrive, we see the long, long line of cars trying to get in the orchard. We decided to skip it, and went straight to Harvest Time. And then the downpour began. We took refuge in the cider barn, which Alex seemed to enjoy. We bought some already picked apples from the store. And I beat the crowd to the doughnut line, thank you very much.
My brother was happy with the thought that we would get back to his house in time for the NIU kickoff. They played the Fighting Illini today. We turned on the TV to find that it wasn’t televised. Network TV had Ohio State and the Big Ten network had Michigan. I preferred watching Michigan, anyway. However, that is entirely backwards.
Now I am home. My laundry is done. Grocery shopping done. Applesauce made. I could potentially take a nap!
The Next Dark Age 