This Thing We're Doing is now officially That Thing We Did, and my favorite part of it was that a bunch of people from different places in my life did it, and it was so much fun to read everyone's thoughts so often. Hooray. It also has gotten me back in the habit of blogging, I think, because when I saw this, my first thought was that I couldn't wait to put it here:
Oh, I love it. What a perfect closing for This Thing. May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be always at your back, and may you always line-dance like a Belgian commuter fueled by the fire of a Julie Andrews hip hop remix.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
26: ow. also, wow.
I just came back from seeing Wendy and Lucy. My heart and brain and entire being hurt. That is one of the most powerful movies I've ever seen.
Uh. I feel like I was just run over by a truck. A truck full of despair. Here, from happier days (i.e. yesterday)... we baked these cupcakes for the birthday party of a friend who studies crickets:
The praying mantis was so big that he didn't fit on a cupcake, so he had to be eaten separately.
Uh. I feel like I was just run over by a truck. A truck full of despair. Here, from happier days (i.e. yesterday)... we baked these cupcakes for the birthday party of a friend who studies crickets:
The praying mantis was so big that he didn't fit on a cupcake, so he had to be eaten separately.
Friday, March 27, 2009
25: hey, good-lookin'
Whatcha got cookin'? Hi, 25. You're looking pretty fine tonight. Yes, yes you are. What's that? You're more posts than I wrote in the entire year of 2007? Why, you're correct! (Also, I can tell you're a little unsettled by that new Blogger tab that says "monetize," and I don't blame you, because I am too.)
This occasion seems appropos for a post with a little more narrative tension than usual, don't you think?
I went to see the African Children's Choir tonight with a friend who had an extra ticket. I walked in kind of hazy on the details of what we were about to see (and so was she; her tickets had come as part of a package deal) and I walked out confused and conflicted. According to the brochure, which is a big "according to" and I really need to do some research about the backing organization, these kids come from very poor parts of Africa and are often orphaned by one or both parents. There was a video showing some of their neighborhoods in different countries in Africa, and testimonials from young adults about how much the choir, which has been around since 1984, has changed their lives.
During the program, a few real-live graduates sang and talked about the program, as well as their current successes in college and the way the program had helped them rise out of poverty. They were interspersed between these incredibly adorable little kids in costumes, singing and dancing. About half the songs were traditional African songs in Swahili or some of the kids' native languages (again, assuming), and the other half were in English. Those were mostly things along the lines of "This Little Light of Mine" set to horrifying '80s synthesizer soundtracks.
The good: Clearly, the children's lives are better for having done this. They are fed and clothed and healthy and educated. For the most part, at least in the first half, the kids looked like they were having a great time singing and dancing and drumming and responding to the applause of the audience. They also are taking home an amazing gift to the kids who don't get chosen: the vast sums of money that keep open special schools run by this program. They claim they educate thousands and thousands of African children a year, just a fraction of whom are the ones who actually go on tour with the choir. (As an aside, it must be a total head trip to be one of the people who chooses the most talented and attractive and healthy kids to go on tour and leaves the rest behind at the schools.)
The bad: What is the ethical cost of this? These kids aren't remotely old enough to choose this life for themselves, and certainly not old enough to choose their religion (although I suppose no kids who are raised with any kind of religion are). But it's pretty clear that they are being used -- trained, in fact, a word they used freely in the video, to sing and dance for rich Western audiences. They are taken around countries they know aren't theirs and asked to stand up every night and look happy at the right times, sad at the right times, sing songs in multiple languages they may or may not understand. They are asked to dance traditional dances for money, to dress up for money, to sing for money, to look cute for money, to look needy for money.
I can't even figure out what I think about this. I mean, in balance, this is good, right? However they've gotten our filthy Western money, they've gotten it, and they're making children's lives better with it. It wouldn't matter if the kids were chosen to go on tour by lottery, or standing up on stage juggling puppies and fire batons, or taught to worship the Flying Spaghetti Monster -- this money is good. And people wouldn't fork over the $30 if they weren't getting a ticket to something that would give them a particular experience.
This entire set-up is counting on some Western need for a transaction to take place, for us to get something in return for the giving of money, right? People wanted the experience; they didn't just want to give $30 for this program without going to see it in action.
But wow, did it feel horrible to me to be having that experience. The beginning, with the African dances and pretty costumes, was odd but manageable. At intermission, my friend and I talked about how weird this felt and how we weren't sure we were comfortable, but we didn't actually consider leaving. Halfway through the second act, during the video, I wanted to run screaming from the room. I have never been so consciously aware of exploiting something or someone while in the act of doing it as I was tonight.
I am going to be more conscious about it from now on, but I'm still completely conflicted about the whole thing. Is it good that I went, or was it just perpetuating the problem? If I'd known what it would be like, should I have just written a check instead and not made myself uncomfortable for two hours on a Friday night, or was that experience worth something in itself?
This occasion seems appropos for a post with a little more narrative tension than usual, don't you think?
I went to see the African Children's Choir tonight with a friend who had an extra ticket. I walked in kind of hazy on the details of what we were about to see (and so was she; her tickets had come as part of a package deal) and I walked out confused and conflicted. According to the brochure, which is a big "according to" and I really need to do some research about the backing organization, these kids come from very poor parts of Africa and are often orphaned by one or both parents. There was a video showing some of their neighborhoods in different countries in Africa, and testimonials from young adults about how much the choir, which has been around since 1984, has changed their lives.
During the program, a few real-live graduates sang and talked about the program, as well as their current successes in college and the way the program had helped them rise out of poverty. They were interspersed between these incredibly adorable little kids in costumes, singing and dancing. About half the songs were traditional African songs in Swahili or some of the kids' native languages (again, assuming), and the other half were in English. Those were mostly things along the lines of "This Little Light of Mine" set to horrifying '80s synthesizer soundtracks.
The good: Clearly, the children's lives are better for having done this. They are fed and clothed and healthy and educated. For the most part, at least in the first half, the kids looked like they were having a great time singing and dancing and drumming and responding to the applause of the audience. They also are taking home an amazing gift to the kids who don't get chosen: the vast sums of money that keep open special schools run by this program. They claim they educate thousands and thousands of African children a year, just a fraction of whom are the ones who actually go on tour with the choir. (As an aside, it must be a total head trip to be one of the people who chooses the most talented and attractive and healthy kids to go on tour and leaves the rest behind at the schools.)
The bad: What is the ethical cost of this? These kids aren't remotely old enough to choose this life for themselves, and certainly not old enough to choose their religion (although I suppose no kids who are raised with any kind of religion are). But it's pretty clear that they are being used -- trained, in fact, a word they used freely in the video, to sing and dance for rich Western audiences. They are taken around countries they know aren't theirs and asked to stand up every night and look happy at the right times, sad at the right times, sing songs in multiple languages they may or may not understand. They are asked to dance traditional dances for money, to dress up for money, to sing for money, to look cute for money, to look needy for money.
I can't even figure out what I think about this. I mean, in balance, this is good, right? However they've gotten our filthy Western money, they've gotten it, and they're making children's lives better with it. It wouldn't matter if the kids were chosen to go on tour by lottery, or standing up on stage juggling puppies and fire batons, or taught to worship the Flying Spaghetti Monster -- this money is good. And people wouldn't fork over the $30 if they weren't getting a ticket to something that would give them a particular experience.
This entire set-up is counting on some Western need for a transaction to take place, for us to get something in return for the giving of money, right? People wanted the experience; they didn't just want to give $30 for this program without going to see it in action.
But wow, did it feel horrible to me to be having that experience. The beginning, with the African dances and pretty costumes, was odd but manageable. At intermission, my friend and I talked about how weird this felt and how we weren't sure we were comfortable, but we didn't actually consider leaving. Halfway through the second act, during the video, I wanted to run screaming from the room. I have never been so consciously aware of exploiting something or someone while in the act of doing it as I was tonight.
I am going to be more conscious about it from now on, but I'm still completely conflicted about the whole thing. Is it good that I went, or was it just perpetuating the problem? If I'd known what it would be like, should I have just written a check instead and not made myself uncomfortable for two hours on a Friday night, or was that experience worth something in itself?
Thursday, March 26, 2009
24: i've got a bad case of lovin' you
So... huh. It turns out that if you stop eating cheese and butter and exercise more, your cholesterol WILL go down. I swear I didn't believe it until now, but there we have it. My doctor's appointment this morning was shockingly positive, with the guy giving me all sorts of kudos for my new and improved numbers, admiring my healthy eating habits, gently suggesting that I exercise every day of the week (oof), and sharing tips about what kind of cottage cheese he prefers.
Of course, things can't be all positive, so when he took my blood pressure, I got a careful, "Are you nervous?" Ha.
Still, this is sort of encouraging. And high on my new success, I went and laid down a few hundred dollars for a year-long gym membership. It isn't the most financially responsible thing I've ever done, since technically I am a member of all of C*rnell's sprawling fitness facilities for free, but the fact is that I hate them and I never go. This gym has tons of classes (in fact, it's the gym where I take African) and it's small and lovely and clean and close to my house and not full of sorority girls in skintight sweatpants with "juicy" written across the butt. Also, tax refund! Woo!
Alright, time to settle down for some exciting reading about benchmarking and assessment plans. And a lifetime of avoiding butter.
Of course, things can't be all positive, so when he took my blood pressure, I got a careful, "Are you nervous?" Ha.
Still, this is sort of encouraging. And high on my new success, I went and laid down a few hundred dollars for a year-long gym membership. It isn't the most financially responsible thing I've ever done, since technically I am a member of all of C*rnell's sprawling fitness facilities for free, but the fact is that I hate them and I never go. This gym has tons of classes (in fact, it's the gym where I take African) and it's small and lovely and clean and close to my house and not full of sorority girls in skintight sweatpants with "juicy" written across the butt. Also, tax refund! Woo!
Alright, time to settle down for some exciting reading about benchmarking and assessment plans. And a lifetime of avoiding butter.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
23: life lesson #3485734952341
Do not eat from a salad bar and/or a Chinese food bar after 9 p.m. You are not "lucky that it is still open," you are "eating food that has been sitting out for about a million hours." God, it sounds so obvious when it's all written out like that. Blech.
Here, you should watch this. Just trust me. Or don't, actually, at least not when it comes to advice on food-borne illnesses.
Here, you should watch this. Just trust me. Or don't, actually, at least not when it comes to advice on food-borne illnesses.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
22: head of the class
In a moment of really weird judgement, I volunteered to teach a workshop at a public library near Syracuse. It's part of the library's "Tech Tuesday" series and it's about Twitter, which is near and dear to my heart. I went to another TT workshop tonight, and I think I can do this, but... help? Any teacher tips would be greatly appreciated. I have experience speaking in front of groups and feel fairly comfortable with it, but I've never tried to TEACH anyone anything in a formal setting except how to knit, which is a little different.
Monday, March 23, 2009
21: I so used up all my garden-related titles last summer
Kelly may be the first person ever to call me "extraordinaire" in reference to, uh, anything! I was so excited that I couldn't contain all of my half-baked advice in her comments, so I am going to answer her question here.
In my opinion, the best thing to grow in your garden is...
... drumroll please...
... an answer Kelly already suggested for herself: herbs! Here are my reasons:
- They are incredibly easy to grow. Herbs are so strong that insects don't like them and will leave them alone. Dill is even considered a bug repellent if you let it flower. (Big exception: Japanese beetles. The little bastards were all up in the basil by the end of the summer, but I had enough basil that I uprooted an entire infested plant and got rid of it, and that pretty much solved the problem.)
- You can start them from seed easily. This makes you feel like a master gardener, to magically make tiny seeds become plants, and is also cheap.
- They are the best value. One little bunch of cilantro is $1.99 at the supermarket; $1.99 worth of cilantro seeds will yield more than you can eat in an entire summer.
- Unlike tomato or squash or any plants that bear fruit, the edible parts regenerate if you keep them trimmed, so you can get more and more and more from one wee plant. (I learned the hard way about which part of the plant you should trim, by the way, which I can share with you when you get to that stage.)
- Herbs you grow taste exponentially better and stronger than those you buy at the supermarket. Real true fact.
- People like to get herbs, and they are easy to give away. I never knew quite what to do with the bumper crop of tomatoes, because they were too heavy and delicate to drag to work, but it was no problem to give away an entire trashbag of basil. Your coworkers make pesto and then they tell you they love you.
- The variety is really fun, and they don't take up that much room. You can plant just a few seeds of a lot of different kinds of herbs and have many options. I found myself wanting more of some and less of others, and that's way more doable than if I wanted 20 different varieties of squash or broccoli or something.
- They freeze well whole. I had no idea this was true until too late for some of my stuff, but you can freeze whole cilantro and then just use it straight from the freezer as though it's fresh. Not quite as good, but still more than passable.
Now comes the part when I reveal I may not have any idea what I'm talking about: I don't know a thing about container gardening. It is really different than in-the-ground gardening because of drainage and soil aeration and all sorts of other things. I have never been as good at keeping potted plants alive as I was at keeping the garden alive. I highly recommend You Grow Girl, which is such a useful book that you can forgive its embarrassing and poorly punctuated title. She has a lot of container-gardening tips in there, and just generally makes a lot of sense.
Ironically, Kelly herself will be calling me in 2 minutes to mach schnell me about doing my reading, and... yeah, clearly I haven't been. No one will call me "student extraordinaire." But gardening is so lovely to contemplate during the TWENTY-DEGREE weather we're having right now. Seriously, Ithaca, I get it, it's cold here. Point taken. Time to move on. I want to grow some rosemary already.
In my opinion, the best thing to grow in your garden is...
... drumroll please...
... an answer Kelly already suggested for herself: herbs! Here are my reasons:
- They are incredibly easy to grow. Herbs are so strong that insects don't like them and will leave them alone. Dill is even considered a bug repellent if you let it flower. (Big exception: Japanese beetles. The little bastards were all up in the basil by the end of the summer, but I had enough basil that I uprooted an entire infested plant and got rid of it, and that pretty much solved the problem.)
- You can start them from seed easily. This makes you feel like a master gardener, to magically make tiny seeds become plants, and is also cheap.
- They are the best value. One little bunch of cilantro is $1.99 at the supermarket; $1.99 worth of cilantro seeds will yield more than you can eat in an entire summer.
- Unlike tomato or squash or any plants that bear fruit, the edible parts regenerate if you keep them trimmed, so you can get more and more and more from one wee plant. (I learned the hard way about which part of the plant you should trim, by the way, which I can share with you when you get to that stage.)
- Herbs you grow taste exponentially better and stronger than those you buy at the supermarket. Real true fact.
- People like to get herbs, and they are easy to give away. I never knew quite what to do with the bumper crop of tomatoes, because they were too heavy and delicate to drag to work, but it was no problem to give away an entire trashbag of basil. Your coworkers make pesto and then they tell you they love you.
- The variety is really fun, and they don't take up that much room. You can plant just a few seeds of a lot of different kinds of herbs and have many options. I found myself wanting more of some and less of others, and that's way more doable than if I wanted 20 different varieties of squash or broccoli or something.
- They freeze well whole. I had no idea this was true until too late for some of my stuff, but you can freeze whole cilantro and then just use it straight from the freezer as though it's fresh. Not quite as good, but still more than passable.
Now comes the part when I reveal I may not have any idea what I'm talking about: I don't know a thing about container gardening. It is really different than in-the-ground gardening because of drainage and soil aeration and all sorts of other things. I have never been as good at keeping potted plants alive as I was at keeping the garden alive. I highly recommend You Grow Girl, which is such a useful book that you can forgive its embarrassing and poorly punctuated title. She has a lot of container-gardening tips in there, and just generally makes a lot of sense.
Ironically, Kelly herself will be calling me in 2 minutes to mach schnell me about doing my reading, and... yeah, clearly I haven't been. No one will call me "student extraordinaire." But gardening is so lovely to contemplate during the TWENTY-DEGREE weather we're having right now. Seriously, Ithaca, I get it, it's cold here. Point taken. Time to move on. I want to grow some rosemary already.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
20: gloss on my lips, a man on my hips
My cousin was just talking about learning the Single Ladies dance. I sent her this link from Rachael Ray's talk show, from an episode in which she asked regular people to do the dance. Beyonce's mom is a judge! And then I had to watch it three more times because I love it so much, for some reason I cannot quite fathom. And now I have to share it with you. Hat tip to H., who originally found the video months ago.
I realized that clip doesn't include the winners, which I did find on YouTube:
But don't watch it if you don't want to question the judgement of Beyonce's mom.
I realized that clip doesn't include the winners, which I did find on YouTube:
But don't watch it if you don't want to question the judgement of Beyonce's mom.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
19: bald-headed girl
I went to the public library today and got sucked into the DVD section, and somehow, the promise of unlimited free movies and TV shows makes me suddenly think I am actually a totally different person -- one who thinks she wants to, say, watch seven DVDs worth of some BBC drama about five generations of Europe's royal families. Or one who is so dedicated to her yoga practice that she will do four different DVDs in the space of a week. The lack of commitment makes me wild and crazy! Hooray for the public library!
I've been watching the first season of Sex and the City, some of which I have actually never seen, and lo, I am entertained. There are actually references in here that I didn't even know originated with this show, and some of it is so sweetly dated... messages on answering machines, no cell phones, late-90s glasses, giant blazers. Funny. And I am eating the Irish soda bread that just came out of the oven, and J. will be home in a few minutes. Happy Saturday night.
I've been watching the first season of Sex and the City, some of which I have actually never seen, and lo, I am entertained. There are actually references in here that I didn't even know originated with this show, and some of it is so sweetly dated... messages on answering machines, no cell phones, late-90s glasses, giant blazers. Funny. And I am eating the Irish soda bread that just came out of the oven, and J. will be home in a few minutes. Happy Saturday night.
Friday, March 20, 2009
18: the dangling conversation
Yesterday, I went to get lunch and do some reading for class at a sandwich place before driving to Syracuse. The reading was boring and me and my incredibly self-disciplined brain were watching the other customers in the restaurant while we (the mouth and stomach that wanted to eat it, the hands that moved it back and forth, the brain that chose it and made the money to pay for it) ate our soup and bagel. I was really struck by these two people, a man and a woman, about our age, sitting at a table across the room from me. I'd noticed them sit down because of their size difference -- the man was really really tall and the very petite woman didn't even come up to his shoulder -- and because he'd pulled out her chair for her, something I've never been able to set a policy on for myself. Is it nice? Why do men only do it for women? Are you implying I am incapable of pulling out my own chair? Why did this become some grand chivalrous gesture when it is actually harder to sit down on something that is moving, thus making it potentially awkward for both the pusher and the sitter? Why am I overthinking this so much and not letting someone just do something nice for me? Etc. etc. Ah, that brain is a fun place.
Back to our two friends: They'd bought a really big lunch, with multiple sandiwches and soups and bags of chips, and stuff was totally covering their table. And they were eating very methodically, in total and complete silence. They were each looking around the restaurant, almost as though they were avoiding eye contact. It drove me kind of insane on their behalf, honestly. I was busy thinking up potential topics for them, such as "wow it is nice out today" and "this sandwich is good, would you like a bite" and "why is that crazy woman in the corner staring at us," but no amount of mental prompting moved them. Entire meal spent in silence, and then they got up and left.
I am still thinking about it, and about all the reasons they could have been quiet with each other. I won't go into the possibilities I've come up with, most of which are kind of morbid, but it made me sad.
In other news, is it possible to break your heel? Or maybe some part of the back of your instep? Because it felt fine going into African dance tonight, and there was no memorable traumatic event such as me falling on it or impaling it on something during class. After class, I noticed it aching a little, but then after going out to Mexican food with J and not moving it much for an hour or so, I almost fell over when I stood up. Ice is currently being applied, but ow.
Back to our two friends: They'd bought a really big lunch, with multiple sandiwches and soups and bags of chips, and stuff was totally covering their table. And they were eating very methodically, in total and complete silence. They were each looking around the restaurant, almost as though they were avoiding eye contact. It drove me kind of insane on their behalf, honestly. I was busy thinking up potential topics for them, such as "wow it is nice out today" and "this sandwich is good, would you like a bite" and "why is that crazy woman in the corner staring at us," but no amount of mental prompting moved them. Entire meal spent in silence, and then they got up and left.
I am still thinking about it, and about all the reasons they could have been quiet with each other. I won't go into the possibilities I've come up with, most of which are kind of morbid, but it made me sad.
In other news, is it possible to break your heel? Or maybe some part of the back of your instep? Because it felt fine going into African dance tonight, and there was no memorable traumatic event such as me falling on it or impaling it on something during class. After class, I noticed it aching a little, but then after going out to Mexican food with J and not moving it much for an hour or so, I almost fell over when I stood up. Ice is currently being applied, but ow.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
17: from framingham to boston
(Neither Framingham nor Boston are in this post, I just couldn't think of a general Massachusetts song... This Thing We're Doing is really highlighting my lack of song-lyric prowess...)
I didn't wind up taking too many photos when we went to Amherst, mostly because we were involved in some group activities that didn't really lend themselves to photography. I know that Angie is right to say you don't have to wait for beautiful photo subjects to come to you, but I don't know, sometimes it takes a change in my usual routine to give me any desire to take out my little point-and-shoot. I frequently see things in my daily life -- the miraculous-seeming snowdrops poking out of the ground on my morning walk to the bus stop, for example -- that occur to me would be good subjects for pictures, but I don't have the camera with me. Maybe I should start carrying it around more.
Anyway, here are a few highlights from the morning after J's talk, when we went to the awesomely named Sugar Shack with a friend from his former department and his wife, both of whom were lovely. I didn't photograph them, but I did capture this guy:
Baaaa. I am the biggest fluffiest most contented sheep ever and I rule this sheep-house, suckers. Baaaa.
The Sugar Shack taps trees and makes its own maple syrup. We tagged along with a group of kindergarteners who were on a tour and watched this guy demonstrating at the evaporation trough thing:
Did you know it takes 40 gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup? It's true!
The steam from the evaporating water obscures the ceiling and makes the building look mysterious:
Then we ate lots of pancakes and syrup and all was right with the world.
I didn't wind up taking too many photos when we went to Amherst, mostly because we were involved in some group activities that didn't really lend themselves to photography. I know that Angie is right to say you don't have to wait for beautiful photo subjects to come to you, but I don't know, sometimes it takes a change in my usual routine to give me any desire to take out my little point-and-shoot. I frequently see things in my daily life -- the miraculous-seeming snowdrops poking out of the ground on my morning walk to the bus stop, for example -- that occur to me would be good subjects for pictures, but I don't have the camera with me. Maybe I should start carrying it around more.
Anyway, here are a few highlights from the morning after J's talk, when we went to the awesomely named Sugar Shack with a friend from his former department and his wife, both of whom were lovely. I didn't photograph them, but I did capture this guy:
Baaaa. I am the biggest fluffiest most contented sheep ever and I rule this sheep-house, suckers. Baaaa.The Sugar Shack taps trees and makes its own maple syrup. We tagged along with a group of kindergarteners who were on a tour and watched this guy demonstrating at the evaporation trough thing:
Did you know it takes 40 gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup? It's true!The steam from the evaporating water obscures the ceiling and makes the building look mysterious:
Then we ate lots of pancakes and syrup and all was right with the world.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
16: porridge porridge, piping hot
Hello, I am tonight's host, Mushbrain. I have taken the place of Gwen this evening, because she has been staring at a computer and shoveling words on a screen around for about 12 hours today and I am forcibly keeping her from typing at the moment. Therefore, it is not her fault that this is a lame placeholder entry. Blame me, Mushbrain. 
This is Mushmouth, not Mushbrain. But Mushbrain is not picky.
This is Mushmouth, not Mushbrain. But Mushbrain is not picky.
Monday, March 16, 2009
15: take the money and run
Do any of you clip coupons? A blogger I read sometimes talk about how she gets, like, 50 tubes of toothpaste for half a penny each, and she linked to Hip2Save.com recently. I clicked over and immediately felt guilty, lazy, wasteful, snobby and generally bad about myself. Something about coupons just turns me off like a switch. It also makes me realize...
1. I do not use any of the products coupons advertise, pretty much ever. I have very little brand loyalty, and actually can't think of one single instance in which I wouldn't buy the generic Wegmans (gr, lack of apostrophe, Wegmans, the grammar police are going to hogtie you) brand over Jif or Life or whatever. Not that I would be averse to the name-brands, but the coupons don't fill me with glee when the generic was probably cheaper even with the coupon.
2. There are no coupons for produce or fresh anything. Which, duh, they can't do that because coupons come from manufacturers and stores have sales on produce, but still.
3. My rational brain does not accept the concept of coupons. When I think about the effort involved of cutting out a coupon and carrying it around with me to save 25 cents or 2 dollars, I think about the number of times a day I waste that much money on coffee or other nonsense. I recognize that saving the money just on groceries would still be saving money regardless of my coffee and nonsense habit, but some weird internal logic prevents me from doing it. Also see above, where I fully admitted my laziness.
Tips? Suggestions? Excuses?
1. I do not use any of the products coupons advertise, pretty much ever. I have very little brand loyalty, and actually can't think of one single instance in which I wouldn't buy the generic Wegmans (gr, lack of apostrophe, Wegmans, the grammar police are going to hogtie you) brand over Jif or Life or whatever. Not that I would be averse to the name-brands, but the coupons don't fill me with glee when the generic was probably cheaper even with the coupon.
2. There are no coupons for produce or fresh anything. Which, duh, they can't do that because coupons come from manufacturers and stores have sales on produce, but still.
3. My rational brain does not accept the concept of coupons. When I think about the effort involved of cutting out a coupon and carrying it around with me to save 25 cents or 2 dollars, I think about the number of times a day I waste that much money on coffee or other nonsense. I recognize that saving the money just on groceries would still be saving money regardless of my coffee and nonsense habit, but some weird internal logic prevents me from doing it. Also see above, where I fully admitted my laziness.
Tips? Suggestions? Excuses?
Sunday, March 15, 2009
14: [insert song lyric about a beaver here]
I told myself I'd go back to working on our marketing plan for class after I pull the whole wheat blueberry muffins out of the oven, which is due to happen in about two minutes, so I will offer you the last and best photo from our trip this weekend: 
Yeah, they're three-dimensional. Yeah, I'm an overtly sexualized cartoon beaver wearing a bustier and miniskirt made out of the American flag. What's your point?
Yeah, they're three-dimensional. Yeah, I'm an overtly sexualized cartoon beaver wearing a bustier and miniskirt made out of the American flag. What's your point?
Saturday, March 14, 2009
13: back in the saddle
The saddle on the horse of normal life, that is. We had a lovely little two-day interlude of wandering around cute cute Amherst and Northampton, and I feel fickle and disloyal to my lovely quirky Ithaca when I say this, but I could live happily in either of those places. I am into the little New England college towns for sure.
While J. was off bonding with his old department the morning after his talk, I toured Emily Dickinson's house. I am now full of a great deal of random Emily Dickinson trivia and interested in learning a lot more. Today, I kept thinking about a line the tour guide quoted and had to go look it up myself. This is from a letter to her only confirmed lover (from afar), Otis Lord:
"While others go to Church, I go to mine, for are you not my Church, and have we not a Hymn that no one knows but us?"
Damn, she was good. Pictures to come.
While J. was off bonding with his old department the morning after his talk, I toured Emily Dickinson's house. I am now full of a great deal of random Emily Dickinson trivia and interested in learning a lot more. Today, I kept thinking about a line the tour guide quoted and had to go look it up myself. This is from a letter to her only confirmed lover (from afar), Otis Lord:
"While others go to Church, I go to mine, for are you not my Church, and have we not a Hymn that no one knows but us?"
Damn, she was good. Pictures to come.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
12: bacon-wrapped stealing
I love SG's post about this and am officially taking it as my own.
Here are a list of things I would like to be eating right now:
- Kelly's OMG macaroons
- something with coconut milk in it, such as Thai food of any kind
- rice pudding made with whole vanilla beans (this is Shannon's fault)
- banana bread with chocolate chips (also Shannon's fault)
- banana bread with raisins (yes, raisins!)
- banana bread
- bread
- bread and salad
- the bread and salad I bought myself for dinner, which has chickpeas and broccoli and marinated tofu and blue cheese and lemon sesame dressing
- the dinner I bought myself for dinner, which I have just decided is starting now
Here are a list of things I would like to be eating right now:
- Kelly's OMG macaroons
- something with coconut milk in it, such as Thai food of any kind
- rice pudding made with whole vanilla beans (this is Shannon's fault)
- banana bread with chocolate chips (also Shannon's fault)
- banana bread with raisins (yes, raisins!)
- banana bread
- bread
- bread and salad
- the bread and salad I bought myself for dinner, which has chickpeas and broccoli and marinated tofu and blue cheese and lemon sesame dressing
- the dinner I bought myself for dinner, which I have just decided is starting now
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
11: going around, coming around
Thanks for all of your wise counsel in the post below and via e-mail and chat today. I think I made the incident sound a little more dramtic than it was (or else sleeping on things (not literally) really does make them clearer) and this morning, I felt better about it. I also neglected to mention that the party involved was someone whom I'm pretty close to and really care about -- and work with constantly -- so after taking her metaphorical temperature for several hours today, I decided she didn't seem like she was dwelling on it and I shouldn't either. There's nothing else to say, so I'm going to drop it. Possibly a first-ever for me, so we'll see how that goes.
Assisting me with the dropping is a bit of karmic payback that came today in a form I will not even get into at all, but let's just say that I feel like the score has been evened by someone wronging me in a distinctly not-right way. But that also requires no action, and indeed might be worsened by any action on my part, so I am also dropping that. Like it is, as they say, hot.
Thanks, universe! It's funny how I actually am superstitious enough to kind of believe that there is some sort of cosmic scorecard. One of the stories in the Wonder Spot (even better as an audiobook than it is in print, I give it five thumbs up) talks about having a fairy godgod, instead of a fairy godmother, and I am not sure if that's relevant here, but I like it.
Off to Amherst early tomorrow morning and back on Friday night. Hopefully there will be a chance to take some nice photos of something beautiful and show them to you.
Assisting me with the dropping is a bit of karmic payback that came today in a form I will not even get into at all, but let's just say that I feel like the score has been evened by someone wronging me in a distinctly not-right way. But that also requires no action, and indeed might be worsened by any action on my part, so I am also dropping that. Like it is, as they say, hot.
Thanks, universe! It's funny how I actually am superstitious enough to kind of believe that there is some sort of cosmic scorecard. One of the stories in the Wonder Spot (even better as an audiobook than it is in print, I give it five thumbs up) talks about having a fairy godgod, instead of a fairy godmother, and I am not sure if that's relevant here, but I like it.
Off to Amherst early tomorrow morning and back on Friday night. Hopefully there will be a chance to take some nice photos of something beautiful and show them to you.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
10: my friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends
You guys, I stuck my foot in my mouth in a really profoundly stupid way tonight. It involved coworkers and money and salaries and alcohol and... not good. The offended party seemed to recover quickly and of course said it was fine, no problem, not a big deal, etc., but in her place, I would have also acted like I recovered quickly and then stewed about it for just about the rest of my life.
The worst part about this is that I will now stew about it for the rest of my life too, and probably apologize 60 more times and not let it go and make it way worse and aargh. How do you deal with this stuff? (That sounded like a rhetorical question, but it wasn't -- I would like to know some alternative methods, even if they don't work particularly well. At least they would be a change of pace.)
The worst part about this is that I will now stew about it for the rest of my life too, and probably apologize 60 more times and not let it go and make it way worse and aargh. How do you deal with this stuff? (That sounded like a rhetorical question, but it wasn't -- I would like to know some alternative methods, even if they don't work particularly well. At least they would be a change of pace.)
Monday, March 09, 2009
9: ladies dancing
Er, uh. I think 9 days in a row has about used up my creativity, and I am running out of stuff to say and using predictable Christmas carols as titles. Hi! I basically spent all day in the car, after hanging out with Angie, small-business woman extraordinaire briefly in the morning and having lunch with my parents. Then I drove for 5 hours, got home, unpacked some stuff, went out for Mexican food with J., came home, finished up my tax stuff (YAY REFUND YAY THANK YOU OBAMA FOR THAT "LIFELONG LEARNING CREDIT" EVEN THOUGH YOU HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT WHATSOEVER YAY), wrapped up some packages to mail, and am now talking to you.
There is much to be done before we leave for Amherst on Wednesday night -- starting a fairly large project for school, taking the car into the garage, picking up prescriptions, watching a movie AND the season finale of the L Word tomorrow night (which may require one of those Hermione Granger time-changers), getting to work early tomorrow to take pictures at a 9 a.m. meeting, going through my annual review on Wednesday.
... and, those are my errands and random work tasks. I am going to put this entry out of its misery. Here is a picture of my former roommate's rabbit:
If you are going to make us read a boring list of miscellany, could you at least bring some raisins next time? Thanks.
There is much to be done before we leave for Amherst on Wednesday night -- starting a fairly large project for school, taking the car into the garage, picking up prescriptions, watching a movie AND the season finale of the L Word tomorrow night (which may require one of those Hermione Granger time-changers), getting to work early tomorrow to take pictures at a 9 a.m. meeting, going through my annual review on Wednesday.
... and, those are my errands and random work tasks. I am going to put this entry out of its misery. Here is a picture of my former roommate's rabbit:
If you are going to make us read a boring list of miscellany, could you at least bring some raisins next time? Thanks.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
8: hey, mr. producer, I'm talking to you, sir
Along with the multitude of audiobooks, I also got a couple CDs from the library. I knew I would be spending some serious time in the car with my parents when we drove to visit my grandmother, and the only radio programming we agree on is Car Talk, Wait Wait Don't Tell Me and particular Broadway musicals, so I picked up this recording of Follies, which is a live concert recorded in 1985 of famous people just singing the music (rather than doing the whole play) with the NY Philharmonic.
It was very excellent, and also took me right back to 199... uh... 5? 1995? and high school's rendition of it. I found myself recalling all sorts of weird details, including the name of A*m** St*pp*er, someone whom I haven't thought about since probably 1995 itself. Do you H*mpfield people remember any funny stories from that year? Besides the apocryphal "Mr. Lehman, your arm is so hairy!" tale, which someone really should recount in the comments for those who didn't have the privilege of attending high school with us. :)
It was very excellent, and also took me right back to 199... uh... 5? 1995? and high school's rendition of it. I found myself recalling all sorts of weird details, including the name of A*m** St*pp*er, someone whom I haven't thought about since probably 1995 itself. Do you H*mpfield people remember any funny stories from that year? Besides the apocryphal "Mr. Lehman, your arm is so hairy!" tale, which someone really should recount in the comments for those who didn't have the privilege of attending high school with us. :)
Saturday, March 07, 2009
7: meat! fruit! both!
Is it cheating that I'm writing this post on Thursday, too? Am I still in the spirit of challenge or is this blatant rule-breaking? They do have computers in Lanky, I'm aware of that, but I know we're going to be away for a lot of the time I'm there, and it doesn't go over well when I only visit once every few months and then hole up in the office for hours at a time, so yeah. Happy Thursday Saturday!
I have been meaning to tell you about my very favorite new-to-me podcast: WNYC's Radio Lab. It's quick and fun and science-y and awesome. My favorite episode so far has been about choice, and...
... I just wrote a long explanation about it and then deleted it, because honestly, you should listen for yourself. To the part about numbers and cake and fruit especially. Go, fight, win!
I have been meaning to tell you about my very favorite new-to-me podcast: WNYC's Radio Lab. It's quick and fun and science-y and awesome. My favorite episode so far has been about choice, and...
... I just wrote a long explanation about it and then deleted it, because honestly, you should listen for yourself. To the part about numbers and cake and fruit especially. Go, fight, win!
Friday, March 06, 2009
6: publish or perish or both
Thanks to the magic of Blogger, I am writing this on day 5 of TTWD, but you are reading it on day 6! Maybe, hopefully.
That makes it hard to know what verb tense I should use here. I will be going to/am in Lancaster tomorrow/today and will therefore be/was therefore in the car at the time I would have been/am posting this. I have taken out 3 audiobooks for this purpose -- Melissa Bank's The Wonder Spot, Roddy Doyle's short stories of some kind and Jonathan Franzen's new collection of essays about his childhood -- and am looking forward to/have really enjoyed listening to them.
I'm especially happy that I found and was able to interlibrary loan an audio copy of the Melissa Bank book, because I went to a reading she did at C*rnell a few weeks ago, and it was flat-out amazing. She is all the reasons I want to be a writer. After the small discussion group in the afternoon, my friend convinced me it was OK for us to go up to her and the other authors and act like freaky fan girls, and I introduced myself by saying that I'd interviewed her once upon a time and now was trying to get my own novel published very unsuccessfully. The timing was perfect, because the book had just been rejected once again by someone I thought I might have had a slightly better-than-average chance with, and I was experiencing my usual reaction to the rejection, which is to want to light the manuscript on fire and then light myself on fire and then go hide under the covers for approximately a decade.
Not surprisingly, Melissa Bank did not think that was a good idea and instead very earnestly told me that she had been rejected for years and years, and that to keep going is the best and only thing you can do, and it'll happen. She then inscribed the book, "Gwen, Keep going -- don't forget, it's an endurance test." which I need to hang as a permanent fixture in front of my face or something. I have been struggling not to sleep with the book under my pillow.
So, I'm looking forward to spending a long, boring, rush-hour drive with her tomorrow. She reads the book herself (which must be a really weird experience for an author), so it will be just like spending time with her, right? Something like that.
That makes it hard to know what verb tense I should use here. I will be going to/am in Lancaster tomorrow/today and will therefore be/was therefore in the car at the time I would have been/am posting this. I have taken out 3 audiobooks for this purpose -- Melissa Bank's The Wonder Spot, Roddy Doyle's short stories of some kind and Jonathan Franzen's new collection of essays about his childhood -- and am looking forward to/have really enjoyed listening to them.
I'm especially happy that I found and was able to interlibrary loan an audio copy of the Melissa Bank book, because I went to a reading she did at C*rnell a few weeks ago, and it was flat-out amazing. She is all the reasons I want to be a writer. After the small discussion group in the afternoon, my friend convinced me it was OK for us to go up to her and the other authors and act like freaky fan girls, and I introduced myself by saying that I'd interviewed her once upon a time and now was trying to get my own novel published very unsuccessfully. The timing was perfect, because the book had just been rejected once again by someone I thought I might have had a slightly better-than-average chance with, and I was experiencing my usual reaction to the rejection, which is to want to light the manuscript on fire and then light myself on fire and then go hide under the covers for approximately a decade.
Not surprisingly, Melissa Bank did not think that was a good idea and instead very earnestly told me that she had been rejected for years and years, and that to keep going is the best and only thing you can do, and it'll happen. She then inscribed the book, "Gwen, Keep going -- don't forget, it's an endurance test." which I need to hang as a permanent fixture in front of my face or something. I have been struggling not to sleep with the book under my pillow.
So, I'm looking forward to spending a long, boring, rush-hour drive with her tomorrow. She reads the book herself (which must be a really weird experience for an author), so it will be just like spending time with her, right? Something like that.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
5: better than anything else that I've tried
(I've just ensured that that Sarah McLaughlin song will be stuck in my head for the rest of the day now, eternally making me think I'm waking up in my freshman-year dorm room, late for 9 a.m. Hebrew class.)
I officially survived the vampires at the clinic this morning. I am now ready to celebrate with two scoops of ice cream topped with melted cheddar, shrimp, shredded coconut and a whole stick of butter. Mm, a cholesterol sundae!
Actually, I am going to celebrate by getting in my car and going to Syracuse and not having time to finish my reading, so I really should get out of here. And J. is going to New Hampshire to give a talk for a few days and then I will be hitting Lanky for the weekend, so we won't see each other for a few days and I should go say goodbye. Yay for victory against the undead! We all live to see another day.
I officially survived the vampires at the clinic this morning. I am now ready to celebrate with two scoops of ice cream topped with melted cheddar, shrimp, shredded coconut and a whole stick of butter. Mm, a cholesterol sundae!
Actually, I am going to celebrate by getting in my car and going to Syracuse and not having time to finish my reading, so I really should get out of here. And J. is going to New Hampshire to give a talk for a few days and then I will be hitting Lanky for the weekend, so we won't see each other for a few days and I should go say goodbye. Yay for victory against the undead! We all live to see another day.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
4: where everybody knows your name
Do any of you watch The L Word? Which is kind of indefensibly bad at the moment but wasn't always that way? (I have issues about the bad TV I watch, but I'm realizing that I don't have that much to be embarrassed about based on the number of people I've seen talking/writing/twittering/Facebook-status-updating about The Bachelor. Apparently some atrocious thing happened, whatever, that show is not my drug of choice, but I am taking comfort in the fact that everyone in the world seems to have TV transgressions.) If you do watch America's favorite lesbians on Showtime every week, this is hilarious. If you don't, it won't make any sense.
Anyway, the point is that a friend from work and I go to the same bar (Sherri: Felicia's -- did you ever go?) every week to watch, and we always order the same amazing hot chocolate drinks with Godiva and Bailey's in them. And for the last two weeks, the bartender has recognized me and known what I wanted. I am a regular! I am Norm on Cheers! Soon, they will be shouting my name when I walk through the door!
It kind of sounds like I spend all my time in bars, doesn't it. That is far from true but it has been a long day... late to work, forgot my yoga clothes, spent several hours editing something shall we say challenging, now trying not to freak out about my impending blood draw tomorrow morning. I think we all need a dose of everyone's favorite existential comic, Garfield Minus Garfield. It's worth going to read the description of what this guy is doing (apparently with the blessing of Jim Davis), because I think it's a little brilliant.
Anyway, the point is that a friend from work and I go to the same bar (Sherri: Felicia's -- did you ever go?) every week to watch, and we always order the same amazing hot chocolate drinks with Godiva and Bailey's in them. And for the last two weeks, the bartender has recognized me and known what I wanted. I am a regular! I am Norm on Cheers! Soon, they will be shouting my name when I walk through the door!
It kind of sounds like I spend all my time in bars, doesn't it. That is far from true but it has been a long day... late to work, forgot my yoga clothes, spent several hours editing something shall we say challenging, now trying not to freak out about my impending blood draw tomorrow morning. I think we all need a dose of everyone's favorite existential comic, Garfield Minus Garfield. It's worth going to read the description of what this guy is doing (apparently with the blessing of Jim Davis), because I think it's a little brilliant.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
3: bird is the word
I'm hopelessly addicted to Twitter. I love it in a way that it isn't totally healthy to love a social networking application. I went so far as to design a lesson plan around it for one of the classes I'm taking this semester, and in a really ill-considered fit of motivation, volunteered to teach the lesson. Like, to real people in a real library. This was maybe not so smart, but that's another story.
Anyway, I was thinking about this today, and I realized that what I like about Twitter is the instantaneous access it gives you to a lot of people's thoughts. An extension in my browser (TwitterFox, if you are interested, which you should be, because it is awesome) pops up these little 140-word messages in the lower right-hand corner of my screen whenever anyone updates. Former coworkers and NPR newsgatherers and friends from school and the people at my library's reference desk and some of my oldest, closest friends and my favorite bloggers whom I'll never meet -- they are all lumped together and given equal weight. Something about the equity and fairness of that appeases my Libra sensibility, and also entertains me and makes me feel weirdly connected to the human race. I feel like that's what we're going for with all of this Web 2.0 stuff... we want technology to link us together and make our worlds feel less isolated, and in this case, I think it works.
(Join Twitter! Yes, you! Why am I always pressuring people to do stuff here? Is it annoying? Don't answer that.)
Anyway, I was thinking about this today, and I realized that what I like about Twitter is the instantaneous access it gives you to a lot of people's thoughts. An extension in my browser (TwitterFox, if you are interested, which you should be, because it is awesome) pops up these little 140-word messages in the lower right-hand corner of my screen whenever anyone updates. Former coworkers and NPR newsgatherers and friends from school and the people at my library's reference desk and some of my oldest, closest friends and my favorite bloggers whom I'll never meet -- they are all lumped together and given equal weight. Something about the equity and fairness of that appeases my Libra sensibility, and also entertains me and makes me feel weirdly connected to the human race. I feel like that's what we're going for with all of this Web 2.0 stuff... we want technology to link us together and make our worlds feel less isolated, and in this case, I think it works.
(Join Twitter! Yes, you! Why am I always pressuring people to do stuff here? Is it annoying? Don't answer that.)
Monday, March 02, 2009
2: anchors away
Woo! I am happy that several of you are joining This Thing We're Doing. It will be awesome. And I'm realizing that March is sort of an interesting month to undertake this wee challenge, because there will be several exciting cliffhangers in my exciting cliffhanger-y life:
Crazy job things are happening. Will I still have a job 30 days from now or will I be investigating my "unemployment options," a hilarious phrase if I ever heard one?
We have actually have to write, like, stuff for school this semester. Will my partner A. (code name, "Bunny Watson," and thank you by the way for not revealing my blog address for all to see) and I conquer all, or will we be defeated by the marketing plan?
I have a follow-up doctor's appointment at the end of the month. Will my cholesterol go down or will the lack of cheese drive me insane?
Garden sign-up season is upon us. Will I get a good plot near the water line or will I be relegated to the far corners of the field?
The Obamas are getting their dog. Will it be a that crazy Portuguese water whatever or will they go for an awesome awesome poodle like they should?
I am going away next weekend and the weekend after. Will I learn how to use the scheduling function in Blogger or am I already setting myself up for failure?
Tune in next time, when you'll hear Dr. Bob say...
... "I can't operate on anybody made out of wood -- I can't stand the sight of sawdust!"
Crazy job things are happening. Will I still have a job 30 days from now or will I be investigating my "unemployment options," a hilarious phrase if I ever heard one?
We have actually have to write, like, stuff for school this semester. Will my partner A. (code name, "Bunny Watson," and thank you by the way for not revealing my blog address for all to see) and I conquer all, or will we be defeated by the marketing plan?
I have a follow-up doctor's appointment at the end of the month. Will my cholesterol go down or will the lack of cheese drive me insane?
Garden sign-up season is upon us. Will I get a good plot near the water line or will I be relegated to the far corners of the field?
The Obamas are getting their dog. Will it be a that crazy Portuguese water whatever or will they go for an awesome awesome poodle like they should?
I am going away next weekend and the weekend after. Will I learn how to use the scheduling function in Blogger or am I already setting myself up for failure?
Tune in next time, when you'll hear Dr. Bob say...
... "I can't operate on anybody made out of wood -- I can't stand the sight of sawdust!"
Sunday, March 01, 2009
1: the loneliest number
Hello and welcome to the first day of This Thing We're Doing! "This thing" would be blogging 25 days out of one month (see No. 16 to your left) and "we" would be me and Cara. It should also be you, though! Yes, you. I would love to read your blog almost every day for a month, seriously, so you should keep us company. Seriously. 
It pleases me that I've actually started off the month with a slightly interesting story: I did something I never thought I'd do tonight. Specifically, I sang at a bar. Not a karaoke bar, a normal bar -- kind of a great bar, actually, that is far away from the multiple colleges here and sort of a townie place, I guess. I was there with a bunch of friends and it was quite fun and we played pinball and that awesome fake bowling with a puck (I won both and have decided that bar sports are the only sports at which I have any talent whatsoever) and then a few of us wound up dancing in front of the band. And then the singer put the microphone in our faces and we sang part of a Johnny Cash song and the responses to Mustang Sally and a lot of other ridiculousness, and it was really excellent. I felt very... uh... happy.
OK, maybe not so interesting. But I'd had sort of a bad, trapped-in-my-head day, and then I got to escape my usual ideas of what I will and won't do, and that was nice. Yeah. Here is a photo from tonight:
Great, the first day of this thing and already she's publishing blurry, self-indulgent self-portraits of herself in mirrors. But it's a pretty awesome bathroom, isn't it?
It pleases me that I've actually started off the month with a slightly interesting story: I did something I never thought I'd do tonight. Specifically, I sang at a bar. Not a karaoke bar, a normal bar -- kind of a great bar, actually, that is far away from the multiple colleges here and sort of a townie place, I guess. I was there with a bunch of friends and it was quite fun and we played pinball and that awesome fake bowling with a puck (I won both and have decided that bar sports are the only sports at which I have any talent whatsoever) and then a few of us wound up dancing in front of the band. And then the singer put the microphone in our faces and we sang part of a Johnny Cash song and the responses to Mustang Sally and a lot of other ridiculousness, and it was really excellent. I felt very... uh... happy.
OK, maybe not so interesting. But I'd had sort of a bad, trapped-in-my-head day, and then I got to escape my usual ideas of what I will and won't do, and that was nice. Yeah. Here is a photo from tonight:
Great, the first day of this thing and already she's publishing blurry, self-indulgent self-portraits of herself in mirrors. But it's a pretty awesome bathroom, isn't it?
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