While the American readers will be focusing on an election months and months away (ok, I know the primary season is upon us), the London electorate have a campaign coming up in May. For London mayor.
It's Boris v. Ken - and it should be interesting. And just based on the names, if you didn't know the characters involved, you'd be surprised at which one of them has nasty Trotskyite tendencies.
It's no secret that I really, really, really hate Ken Livingstone. I hate his Marxist style empire building amongst the London boroughs. I hate his divisive politics under the name of cohesion. I hate the cozying up to the Islamist elite.
Apparently there's to be an expose on some of his political shenanigans on Monday night through Channel 4's Dispatches programme.
Check out a little foreshadowing here at Harry's Place.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
secret high school diary
Now, I'm not really into the teen tv scene. I know what Hannah Montana is, but I'd never heard of this Zoey 101 until she turned up knocked up. Minor relatives of washed up musical celebrities, anyway...
I assumed that Zoey 101 was an American only thing, 'cause I'd only heard of through blogging world. Good for her for keeping her baby. Bad for her, 'cause she's a role model, etc. etc. etc.
OK, then.
Well, as far as I knew she wasn't on tv here in the UK. But since we have 10 year Sally Jesse Rafael's in endless rerun on British tv, why wouldn't a current teen phenom also have some place on children's channels? Anyway, she must be on Brit tv somewhere because today I saw a Zoey 101 part series advertised on tv.
The part series
I don't think Americans do the "part series" - at least I never noticed it. Anyway, these are things where you buy a part of a model of a sailing ship or a toy dinosaur skeleton, a chunk of mineral, some beads and gew-gaws or improvised explosive device each week and each part is accompanied by a magazine explaining the wonderful world of pirates, dinosaurs, geology, jewelry making or insurgency or some such and further instructions for the use of the part you bought.
The first "part" is usually at some knock down price and then once they get you hooked, the price jacks up. And these magazines with crap attached in a plastic bubble are available at your local newsagent.
Like Zoey 101, these things seem to be aimed at the 8 to 12s. Anyway, the Zoey 101 part series and magazine advertises "tips from Zoey" like "get the Zoey look" and "Zoey's secret high school diary". I don't know why, but that sort of cracked me up.
Dear Diary
I wondered what was in Zoey's secret high school diary...
16 August 2006
My sister thinks she's so hot, but she's not. Ever since she got pregnant she got fat.
10 February 2007
Now that I've got this tv show, I'm earning enough money to live in my own apartment. I'm 15, so I think I'm old enough to live on my own. It's not like I won't have my boyfriend with me.
11 October 2007
I think I might be pregnant. Thank goodness my tv high school has one of those in school day care centers, although I plan to raise the baby in Louisiana where it can have a normal life. At least, now I can show the world that I can be better than my sister at something.
I assumed that Zoey 101 was an American only thing, 'cause I'd only heard of through blogging world. Good for her for keeping her baby. Bad for her, 'cause she's a role model, etc. etc. etc.
OK, then.
Well, as far as I knew she wasn't on tv here in the UK. But since we have 10 year Sally Jesse Rafael's in endless rerun on British tv, why wouldn't a current teen phenom also have some place on children's channels? Anyway, she must be on Brit tv somewhere because today I saw a Zoey 101 part series advertised on tv.
The part series
I don't think Americans do the "part series" - at least I never noticed it. Anyway, these are things where you buy a part of a model of a sailing ship or a toy dinosaur skeleton, a chunk of mineral, some beads and gew-gaws or improvised explosive device each week and each part is accompanied by a magazine explaining the wonderful world of pirates, dinosaurs, geology, jewelry making or insurgency or some such and further instructions for the use of the part you bought.
The first "part" is usually at some knock down price and then once they get you hooked, the price jacks up. And these magazines with crap attached in a plastic bubble are available at your local newsagent.
Like Zoey 101, these things seem to be aimed at the 8 to 12s. Anyway, the Zoey 101 part series and magazine advertises "tips from Zoey" like "get the Zoey look" and "Zoey's secret high school diary". I don't know why, but that sort of cracked me up.
Dear Diary
I wondered what was in Zoey's secret high school diary...
16 August 2006
My sister thinks she's so hot, but she's not. Ever since she got pregnant she got fat.
10 February 2007
Now that I've got this tv show, I'm earning enough money to live in my own apartment. I'm 15, so I think I'm old enough to live on my own. It's not like I won't have my boyfriend with me.
11 October 2007
I think I might be pregnant. Thank goodness my tv high school has one of those in school day care centers, although I plan to raise the baby in Louisiana where it can have a normal life. At least, now I can show the world that I can be better than my sister at something.
the lottery dream
VolBro has a recurring dream where he wins 41 or 43 million on the lottery. He's very specific about the amount. And he told me that if the lottery jackpot ever reaches 41 or 43 million, I should buy a ticket because it's kinda preordained. He's very specific about the amount. He says the type of currency doesn't matter.
I just can't remember if it was 43 or 41 million - or was it 45? No. Definitely 41 or 43.
Tonight's estimated jackpot is 41 million - pounds. I think that's roughly a squillion dollars with the current exchange rate. I've been thinking about calling him and asking him what numbers to pick.
Would I be morally obligated to share the winnings with him if he told me some numbers to pick on this preordained lottery win? Or could I, you know, just buy him a beer?
I just can't remember if it was 43 or 41 million - or was it 45? No. Definitely 41 or 43.
Tonight's estimated jackpot is 41 million - pounds. I think that's roughly a squillion dollars with the current exchange rate. I've been thinking about calling him and asking him what numbers to pick.
Would I be morally obligated to share the winnings with him if he told me some numbers to pick on this preordained lottery win? Or could I, you know, just buy him a beer?
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Back to work
I went back to work today. I'm only working one day a week for a little while. But it's good.
The Vol-in-Law called me at about 11am. When I got off the phone, my co-workers wanted to know if the baby was doing alright, if the ViL was doing alright.
"Oh no, everything's fine" I said. "He was just in the cemetery and told me there was a floral tribute of leaping dolphins that I'd probably want to photograph tomorrow."
Old co-workers were not surprised. New ones - well, they thought that was a little weird.
The Vol-in-Law called me at about 11am. When I got off the phone, my co-workers wanted to know if the baby was doing alright, if the ViL was doing alright.
"Oh no, everything's fine" I said. "He was just in the cemetery and told me there was a floral tribute of leaping dolphins that I'd probably want to photograph tomorrow."
Old co-workers were not surprised. New ones - well, they thought that was a little weird.
Keep on rockin in the free world
Yesterday I got my paper notice about the Global Primary. (If this link doesn't work, don't worry - more info below). Since Buddy is eating paper these days, I wanted to get it on the bulletin board and out of his way. But of course, I forgot and left it dangerously close to the changing area.
Me: Hand me that voting thingy.
Vol-in-Law: Voting thingy?
Me: Yeah, that paper there.
ViL: Oh, your voting thingy. (Extra derisive tone where you see italics).
Me: Yeah, you know the vote the directs activities in the free world.
_________
Living abroad? Want to vote in the primary? Check out the Democrats Abroad site.
Need to register to vote? Check out - www.votefromabroad.org
Me: Hand me that voting thingy.
Vol-in-Law: Voting thingy?
Me: Yeah, that paper there.
ViL: Oh, your voting thingy. (Extra derisive tone where you see italics).
Me: Yeah, you know the vote the directs activities in the free world.
_________
Living abroad? Want to vote in the primary? Check out the Democrats Abroad site.
Need to register to vote? Check out - www.votefromabroad.org
Monday, January 14, 2008
Your good advice, I disregard it
That's not really true. I've asked for reader advice before and I always - always listen. I've often changed my mind or at least moderated my course of action. But y'all told me it was tacky - but I've decided to go ahead anyway.
I've submitted info to receive a quote on the fake grass lawn.
But let me tell you, y'all saved me. 'Cause there's been a huge advance in fake grass technology between then and now.
I'm telling you, at a glance, the stuff we're getting looks really real. Even the chunk of sample turf looks like a little chunk of real turf - like maybe a zoysia - or a really fine, fescue blend.
Oh, it's sweet. It'll look like the lawn I'm too lazy to ever have.
-0-
Here's a picture of Buddy watching me take the pictures to send off to the faux lawn place. My brother and I wore similar expressions when VolMom made us come outside and keep her company while she gardened.
I've submitted info to receive a quote on the fake grass lawn.
But let me tell you, y'all saved me. 'Cause there's been a huge advance in fake grass technology between then and now.
I'm telling you, at a glance, the stuff we're getting looks really real. Even the chunk of sample turf looks like a little chunk of real turf - like maybe a zoysia - or a really fine, fescue blend.
Oh, it's sweet. It'll look like the lawn I'm too lazy to ever have.
-0-
Here's a picture of Buddy watching me take the pictures to send off to the faux lawn place. My brother and I wore similar expressions when VolMom made us come outside and keep her company while she gardened.
Unforgettable
I've got this user ID and password for this website that's kind of important, but not something I'd be checking all the time.
So I chose something unforgettable.
I've pretty much been through all my unforgettable combinations of user IDs and passwords and no dice. (Yes, I do know it's not as secure as it could be, but I do have a little collection of these passwords)
Dang it.
So I chose something unforgettable.
I've pretty much been through all my unforgettable combinations of user IDs and passwords and no dice. (Yes, I do know it's not as secure as it could be, but I do have a little collection of these passwords)
Dang it.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Reliance on appliance
Steve at WhitesCreek Journal has a busted dishwasher. The way he's written the post, I've just totally spoilered it, but I think it'll be alright.
He thinks the modern human cannot live without the dishwasher. Millions of Britons would disagree.
But they are, of course, in the wrong.
-0-
My in-laws are kind of anti-appliance. Well, they're anti-convenience. I've joked with the Vol-in-Law that there's the easy way, the hard way and then there's his dad's especially difficult way. Seriously, that man goes way out of his way to make his own life hard*.
But anyway, they don't have a microwave, a dishwasher or a dryer. They don't even have a hairdryer.
My father-in-law told me once that by the time you've unloaded and re-loaded the dishwasher you've spent just as much time as hand washing the dishes.
I asked him if he'd ever had a dishwasher. No. Well, then, I've lived with dishwashers and lived without them and I guarantee it takes less time than washing up by hand.
-0-
The Vol-in-Law doesn't have his parents ideological opposition to labor saving devices, but he doesn't have an American's experience of them either. So it took me a while to convince him that we needed a dishwasher. Once we had one, he agreed that a dishwasher was a higher priority than a washing machine. When our dishwasher went bust last year, we wasted no time getting a new one. We probably should have spent a little more time, because the new one isn't nearly as good as the old one.
And as for dryers.... I don't really know why but he resisted that one for years. Years I tell you. Which was kinda dumb because he was the one who did the laundry. And like millions of Brits we had laundry hanging off radiators and drying racks in our living room and in our kitchen and goodness knows where all.
But once he had the dryer, he felt that his life was transformed. Transformed, I tell you, and we don't even have a good set up. We don't have room in our tiny house for a dryer, so we have it in the shed. But still what took him all day now takes him mere hours. And sometimes a lot less, because with the dryer I'm sometimes willing to do a load or two myself.
But now our dryer has had an accident. A stroller and extension ladder precariously stacked on top of the dryer fell off the other day, striking the door and causing it to be - and this is a technical term - wonky. So now it cuts out, unless you prop something against the door. (I'm thinking of rigging it with a bit of bungee cord). Until we figured it out, the dryer was suffering from a mysterious ailment. I was panicking about the dryer situation.
But the ViL, his view was starker. "Our whole way of life depends on a working dryer."
___________
*Although my husband has given them the URL for my blog, I think my inlaws don't read it. Though I would be so curious I wouldn't be able to help myself. You know, to see if there were any posts like this one here, for example.
He thinks the modern human cannot live without the dishwasher. Millions of Britons would disagree.
But they are, of course, in the wrong.
-0-
My in-laws are kind of anti-appliance. Well, they're anti-convenience. I've joked with the Vol-in-Law that there's the easy way, the hard way and then there's his dad's especially difficult way. Seriously, that man goes way out of his way to make his own life hard*.
But anyway, they don't have a microwave, a dishwasher or a dryer. They don't even have a hairdryer.
My father-in-law told me once that by the time you've unloaded and re-loaded the dishwasher you've spent just as much time as hand washing the dishes.
I asked him if he'd ever had a dishwasher. No. Well, then, I've lived with dishwashers and lived without them and I guarantee it takes less time than washing up by hand.
-0-
The Vol-in-Law doesn't have his parents ideological opposition to labor saving devices, but he doesn't have an American's experience of them either. So it took me a while to convince him that we needed a dishwasher. Once we had one, he agreed that a dishwasher was a higher priority than a washing machine. When our dishwasher went bust last year, we wasted no time getting a new one. We probably should have spent a little more time, because the new one isn't nearly as good as the old one.
And as for dryers.... I don't really know why but he resisted that one for years. Years I tell you. Which was kinda dumb because he was the one who did the laundry. And like millions of Brits we had laundry hanging off radiators and drying racks in our living room and in our kitchen and goodness knows where all.
But once he had the dryer, he felt that his life was transformed. Transformed, I tell you, and we don't even have a good set up. We don't have room in our tiny house for a dryer, so we have it in the shed. But still what took him all day now takes him mere hours. And sometimes a lot less, because with the dryer I'm sometimes willing to do a load or two myself.
But now our dryer has had an accident. A stroller and extension ladder precariously stacked on top of the dryer fell off the other day, striking the door and causing it to be - and this is a technical term - wonky. So now it cuts out, unless you prop something against the door. (I'm thinking of rigging it with a bit of bungee cord). Until we figured it out, the dryer was suffering from a mysterious ailment. I was panicking about the dryer situation.
But the ViL, his view was starker. "Our whole way of life depends on a working dryer."
___________
*Although my husband has given them the URL for my blog, I think my inlaws don't read it. Though I would be so curious I wouldn't be able to help myself. You know, to see if there were any posts like this one here, for example.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Reunion
Nicole -another South London American expat blogger - wants to go to her 20th high school reunion this year.
I do, too.
I mean - not to hers. That would be weird. Plus, I bet her reunion is in Vegas and I've kinda sworn I'd never pay to go there again.
No, I want to go to mine. Mine should be sometime this year, too. My 20th high school reunion. Holy moly.
I gotta lose weight and make up a convincing, yet over-the-top tissue of lies and half-truths about my glamorous London lifestyle. And get a haircut.
I do, too.
I mean - not to hers. That would be weird. Plus, I bet her reunion is in Vegas and I've kinda sworn I'd never pay to go there again.
No, I want to go to mine. Mine should be sometime this year, too. My 20th high school reunion. Holy moly.
I gotta lose weight and make up a convincing, yet over-the-top tissue of lies and half-truths about my glamorous London lifestyle. And get a haircut.
And now I ask you...
OK, do you like the new look? The Vol-in-Law hates it. He's offered some constructive and un-constructive criticism. He says I should go on my baby discussion forums and say:
"DH says my blog looks like cr@p. Tell me it doesn't, support only please." (You have to spell crap like that because the discussion forum has naughty word filters.)
I don't have a lot of time to wrangle with HTML or CSS, but I can always go back to an earlier version.
-0-
How do you feel about the Princes in the Tower. I mean did Richard III do it, or did he do it? VolMom passed along a book which exonerates Richard. I haven't finished the book, but I'm pretty unconvinced.
-0-
Tortillas: Corn or flour?
Popcorn: Butter or plain?
Peanut butter: Crunchy or smooth?
"DH says my blog looks like cr@p. Tell me it doesn't, support only please." (You have to spell crap like that because the discussion forum has naughty word filters.)
I don't have a lot of time to wrangle with HTML or CSS, but I can always go back to an earlier version.
-0-
How do you feel about the Princes in the Tower. I mean did Richard III do it, or did he do it? VolMom passed along a book which exonerates Richard. I haven't finished the book, but I'm pretty unconvinced.
-0-
Tortillas: Corn or flour?
Popcorn: Butter or plain?
Peanut butter: Crunchy or smooth?
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Dog bites man
I don't really know how to tell my non-Tennessee readers just how ridiculoso this headline is:
Moonshine and marijuana found in Cocke County
And in more breaking news...
Pope confirmed Catholic
Shocking new evidence: bear poo found in woods.
Even the discovery of a stash of oxycodone along with the grass and whiskey isn't in the least surprising. Perhaps if the police had bothered to check the back yard they might have found the chop shop and the fighting cock houses.
Thanks to KAG for that gem.
Moonshine and marijuana found in Cocke County
And in more breaking news...
Pope confirmed Catholic
Shocking new evidence: bear poo found in woods.
Even the discovery of a stash of oxycodone along with the grass and whiskey isn't in the least surprising. Perhaps if the police had bothered to check the back yard they might have found the chop shop and the fighting cock houses.
Thanks to KAG for that gem.
The disputes of the wallabies
Doot-do-do, I'm eating my cabbage, yummy cabbage.
That's a tasty leaf you got there.
Hey wait a minute, that's mine!
Maybe we can share?
Or maybe not now that it's got your slobber on it.
Or yours.
Hurray for Hillary
I've already stated that my preferred candidate in the Democratic primaries is Hillary Clinton. But I'm not bashing anyone else in the race, because we've got a bigger, more important race coming in the Autumn.
However, with yesterday's election results I was quite happy to say Ha ha
Not to the other Democratic candidates, certainly not to any of their supporters. But to the media who gleefully predicted Hillary Clinton's demise in this "fight of her political life."
New Hampshire is just a small Northeastern state, not a deathmatch. But even so, I'm glad she won.
However, with yesterday's election results I was quite happy to say Ha ha
Not to the other Democratic candidates, certainly not to any of their supporters. But to the media who gleefully predicted Hillary Clinton's demise in this "fight of her political life."
New Hampshire is just a small Northeastern state, not a deathmatch. But even so, I'm glad she won.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
And now I will blog about the 2008 Presidential race
For so long I've avoided blogging about the 2008 run for the White House and sworn I wouldn't until it was seemly. Maybe it was because I was a bit sickened by the campaigning kicking off before the 2006 Midterms even concluded. It's like retailers putting up Christmas decorations before Halloween. It ain't right.
I did have a post or two about Fred, but I tagged them Not the 2008 election, so I feel I kept my promise in a moral sense.
But now it's 2008, so I'm ready.
To the Republican party:
Y'all are making me laugh. Your candidates are crazy or lazy.
To the Democrats:
Can we please avoid having a nomination until the rest of the nation freakin' votes? We did this last time and look who we got. A loser. A guy who was so lacking in charisma and winning-ness that he couldn't resoundly beat that no-hoper George Bush.
To the "liberals":
Stop calling Hillary Clinton "shrill" or "close-to-tears" when she's not. Y'all need to take a look in the mirror and think about where this attitude is coming from. From what I've seen Hillary Clinton has acquitted herself admirably. Yes, I am voting for her.
But here are two people who probably/certainly aren't voting for her who've spotted the woman bashing, too. (Kathy Flake and the Tennessee Guerilla Women here and here and elsewhere). Heck, even my husband who subscribes to Pat Buchanan's American Conservative magazine noticed and has been stunned by the level of woman bashing.
To the British media:
Stop pontificating on this election as if a) you have a vote or b) you deserve a vote. You are merely outside observers. You do not get to anoint your chosen candidate - Barrack Obama. Although, maybe I shouldn't say anything since I believe that The Guardian with their stupid letter writing campaign along with the some vote tampering managed to lose Ohio.
And since I'm supporting the shrill and close-to-tears Hillary Clinton (yes, this according to the British media), go ahead, please shoot yourselves in the foot on this one, too.
I did have a post or two about Fred, but I tagged them Not the 2008 election, so I feel I kept my promise in a moral sense.
But now it's 2008, so I'm ready.
To the Republican party:
Y'all are making me laugh. Your candidates are crazy or lazy.
To the Democrats:
Can we please avoid having a nomination until the rest of the nation freakin' votes? We did this last time and look who we got. A loser. A guy who was so lacking in charisma and winning-ness that he couldn't resoundly beat that no-hoper George Bush.
To the "liberals":
Stop calling Hillary Clinton "shrill" or "close-to-tears" when she's not. Y'all need to take a look in the mirror and think about where this attitude is coming from. From what I've seen Hillary Clinton has acquitted herself admirably. Yes, I am voting for her.
But here are two people who probably/certainly aren't voting for her who've spotted the woman bashing, too. (Kathy Flake and the Tennessee Guerilla Women here and here and elsewhere). Heck, even my husband who subscribes to Pat Buchanan's American Conservative magazine noticed and has been stunned by the level of woman bashing.
To the British media:
Stop pontificating on this election as if a) you have a vote or b) you deserve a vote. You are merely outside observers. You do not get to anoint your chosen candidate - Barrack Obama. Although, maybe I shouldn't say anything since I believe that The Guardian with their stupid letter writing campaign along with the some vote tampering managed to lose Ohio.
And since I'm supporting the shrill and close-to-tears Hillary Clinton (yes, this according to the British media), go ahead, please shoot yourselves in the foot on this one, too.
Monday, January 07, 2008
The mismanagement of the social diary
Do y'all remember that Andy Griffith episode wherein Andy is overwhelmed with social engagements? A dinner party and a bridge night. And he reckons that he can go to both if he skips dessert. But the problem is that he goes to dinner at the bridge folks' house and then he shows up to play cards after the dinner party is over.
Yep.
We were invited to a family party this weekend several hours away by car. The Vol-in-Law isn't especially close to his extended family, but he really wanted to show off his new boy - especially since he's the first of his generation to reproduce.
The last time we went up there we did have two social engagements. A traditional wedding in this quaint East of England village and then a wedding reception back in London with yummy margaritas made with real limeade smuggled in from the States. We actually did go to both.
And did you know that champagne does not mix well with tequila? I'm saving you the two-day hangover by telling you now.
This time we didn't have two social engagements.
But we got the day wrong. (And by we, I'd like to make it clear that I'm taking corporate responsibility for the actions of another member of our family management team.)
Because of the baby, we went up the night before so we'd be fresh and ready for the day long party. Only as soon as we arrived, after packing and dealing with the baby. And did you know how much stuff you have to pack for a baby? And then driving up and checking in. And then we discover that we got the day wrong. And the party is almost over.
So we change out of our baby food decorated clothes and run up there. Where Buddy appeared for a quick photo call (at one point there were four or five cameras flashing and popping in his face), which Buddy loves. He's ready for his close up now.
And then we go back to our bed and breakfast. And that's it.
Oh, except for the travel cot which Buddy mistook for some kind of Dick Cheney approved interrogation cage and just would not use. And the bed that was way too small. And the heat that went off at two in the tiny room with no insulation - meaning it was hot, hot, hot and then freezing cold. So no sleep.
But all was not lost. For on the way back we stopped at Woburn Safari Park, where we petted wallabies.
Yep.
We were invited to a family party this weekend several hours away by car. The Vol-in-Law isn't especially close to his extended family, but he really wanted to show off his new boy - especially since he's the first of his generation to reproduce.
The last time we went up there we did have two social engagements. A traditional wedding in this quaint East of England village and then a wedding reception back in London with yummy margaritas made with real limeade smuggled in from the States. We actually did go to both.
And did you know that champagne does not mix well with tequila? I'm saving you the two-day hangover by telling you now.
This time we didn't have two social engagements.
But we got the day wrong. (And by we, I'd like to make it clear that I'm taking corporate responsibility for the actions of another member of our family management team.)
Because of the baby, we went up the night before so we'd be fresh and ready for the day long party. Only as soon as we arrived, after packing and dealing with the baby. And did you know how much stuff you have to pack for a baby? And then driving up and checking in. And then we discover that we got the day wrong. And the party is almost over.
So we change out of our baby food decorated clothes and run up there. Where Buddy appeared for a quick photo call (at one point there were four or five cameras flashing and popping in his face), which Buddy loves. He's ready for his close up now.
And then we go back to our bed and breakfast. And that's it.
Oh, except for the travel cot which Buddy mistook for some kind of Dick Cheney approved interrogation cage and just would not use. And the bed that was way too small. And the heat that went off at two in the tiny room with no insulation - meaning it was hot, hot, hot and then freezing cold. So no sleep.
But all was not lost. For on the way back we stopped at Woburn Safari Park, where we petted wallabies.
Friday, January 04, 2008
Seventy-six trombones
If you're the hoping, praying, rub on a brass monkey, knock on wood, send good vibes type person please hope for me that a daycare place at my preferred provider opens soon.
I'm ready to go back to work. I've been at home long enough.
I'm hoping to go back part time which actually shouldn't be a problem, but I need to a place to stick Buddy. We went by the place the other day and said "Puuhlease, next available slot please." We're waiting to find out if someone else is declining a place. They're vacillating, apparently.
-0-
Returning to work will obviously be a little bit bitter-sweet. Probably more on the bitter than the sweet. I've been unhappy with my job for a while. It's not the work (well, a little bit) or the people (hmmmm) or my short attention span (this is the longest I've ever held a job - though I've worked in this field for a long time). It's mostly the h.ot.des.king. You see I have an office job, one that requires a small amount of travel (like maybe once every six weeks or so and can be a lot less) and that does require meeting with folks off premises on average once a week, but mostly I'm IN. But without a desk to call my own. Top management, who all have desks of their own, were sold a pig in a poke by some fancy-dan architects.
What, you don't have h.ot.des.king? Why, how can you even call yourselves a _______ business. Everyone has h.ot.des.king these days, prevents the corruption of the workforce, you know.
I could go on and on and on and on about the stupidity of all this, but I really don't want to give away too many details on a blog that I have pretty much tried to keep work-blogging free.
When I was pregnant, I insisted that they keep a desk reserved for me on health and safety grounds. Which was mostly rubbish, there was kind a tenuous argument because I use a footrest and it was uncomfortable to get down on the ground and move that around. Really I needed the desk reserved because I'm a human and therefore a creature of habit. But pleading the belly worked. But now that I'm not pregnant any more it'll be back to rats in a sack when it comes to finding a place to plug in my laptop and park my behind.
But I have to go back for at least three months or else I have to pay back maternity leave. (Yikes). But I also resolve to be looking for something new, too. Something maybe with a desk.
I'm ready to go back to work. I've been at home long enough.
I'm hoping to go back part time which actually shouldn't be a problem, but I need to a place to stick Buddy. We went by the place the other day and said "Puuhlease, next available slot please." We're waiting to find out if someone else is declining a place. They're vacillating, apparently.
-0-
Returning to work will obviously be a little bit bitter-sweet. Probably more on the bitter than the sweet. I've been unhappy with my job for a while. It's not the work (well, a little bit) or the people (hmmmm) or my short attention span (this is the longest I've ever held a job - though I've worked in this field for a long time). It's mostly the h.ot.des.king. You see I have an office job, one that requires a small amount of travel (like maybe once every six weeks or so and can be a lot less) and that does require meeting with folks off premises on average once a week, but mostly I'm IN. But without a desk to call my own. Top management, who all have desks of their own, were sold a pig in a poke by some fancy-dan architects.
What, you don't have h.ot.des.king? Why, how can you even call yourselves a _______ business. Everyone has h.ot.des.king these days, prevents the corruption of the workforce, you know.
I could go on and on and on and on about the stupidity of all this, but I really don't want to give away too many details on a blog that I have pretty much tried to keep work-blogging free.
When I was pregnant, I insisted that they keep a desk reserved for me on health and safety grounds. Which was mostly rubbish, there was kind a tenuous argument because I use a footrest and it was uncomfortable to get down on the ground and move that around. Really I needed the desk reserved because I'm a human and therefore a creature of habit. But pleading the belly worked. But now that I'm not pregnant any more it'll be back to rats in a sack when it comes to finding a place to plug in my laptop and park my behind.
But I have to go back for at least three months or else I have to pay back maternity leave. (Yikes). But I also resolve to be looking for something new, too. Something maybe with a desk.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Namer's remorse
Katie Allison Granju points to an article highlighting the phenomenon of baby namer's remorse. Too many people on the baby forums I frequent were "I don't care what other people say, I'm going to name him Laffable McStoopidname or Ridiculously Over-popular if it's a girl."
Maybe, just maybe, you should care what other people say. Now, I'm not saying you should necessarily bend to other people's whims. There are lots of names that might be perfectly acceptable but that I would never use because it's the name of an ex-boyfriend or that boogery girl in 3rd grade. But maybe a little market testing isn't such a bad idea. And then you wouldn't have to re-name your child. Not that I would do that, I've tried it with pets and unless you do it straight outta the pet rescue it doesn't work. (Our own Fancy was aka Missy at Battersea.)
I knew the first name we had chosen would be popular - maybe even the number one choice in Tennessee (it has been for several years) and it makes the Top 10 in England and Wales, where it's probably been since the decade or so after 1066. Although it's not the US national choice, not even in the top 10. But it's a name with a little bit of choice for nickname and it's a family name. His middle name is in current vogue - not sure where it figures exactly - but again it's a family name. And given that it's a family and coincidentally reflects the Vol-in-Law's Ulster heritage, too, it's gone down well with both sides.
For a girl's name, our choices were less solid. My favorite shortly before the gender was revealed to us rendering the discussion moot was Edith. No one much liked it, but I didn't care - I was thinking of using Edie as a nickname. But recently I read that Edith might be on the comeback - and while for a boy's name I like the traditional yet popular, for girls I like the traditional yet unusual. (Not unlike what my parents and the ViL's parents did.)
-0-
In the UK, I think it's a bit easier and a lot cheaper to change your or a kid's name.
Maybe, just maybe, you should care what other people say. Now, I'm not saying you should necessarily bend to other people's whims. There are lots of names that might be perfectly acceptable but that I would never use because it's the name of an ex-boyfriend or that boogery girl in 3rd grade. But maybe a little market testing isn't such a bad idea. And then you wouldn't have to re-name your child. Not that I would do that, I've tried it with pets and unless you do it straight outta the pet rescue it doesn't work. (Our own Fancy was aka Missy at Battersea.)
I knew the first name we had chosen would be popular - maybe even the number one choice in Tennessee (it has been for several years) and it makes the Top 10 in England and Wales, where it's probably been since the decade or so after 1066. Although it's not the US national choice, not even in the top 10. But it's a name with a little bit of choice for nickname and it's a family name. His middle name is in current vogue - not sure where it figures exactly - but again it's a family name. And given that it's a family and coincidentally reflects the Vol-in-Law's Ulster heritage, too, it's gone down well with both sides.
For a girl's name, our choices were less solid. My favorite shortly before the gender was revealed to us rendering the discussion moot was Edith. No one much liked it, but I didn't care - I was thinking of using Edie as a nickname. But recently I read that Edith might be on the comeback - and while for a boy's name I like the traditional yet popular, for girls I like the traditional yet unusual. (Not unlike what my parents and the ViL's parents did.)
-0-
In the UK, I think it's a bit easier and a lot cheaper to change your or a kid's name.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
They shoot kitties, don't they?
VolMom bought her most favored son-in-law a BB gun for Christmas. She tried to make me promise not to tell my brother about this gift, but she'd already bought the thing. There would have been times growing up that VolMom could have made VolBro the happiest boy in the world if only she'd given him a BB gun. Or maybe he would have put his eye out. But my mom was so anti-gun than I'm pretty sure he never even asked for one.
Anyway, the gun was a gift to me too if I could say "Hey, my brother, mom bought my husband a BB gun for Christmas. Something she still wouldn't buy you."
This BB gun is some sort of "safe" version, though - hardly what a boy most desires. For one thing, the safety won't stay off unless you're actively pressing on it. For another, it's battery operated with a constant force of BB expulsion - that means you can't pump it up higher and higher and higher resulting in a more painful shooting experience. And it uses plastic pellets, not those little metal eye poppers.
But it still hurts to be hit by this BB gun. I know this because that's what the Vol-in-Law told me when I shot him.
It sounds like a domestic, I know, but it wasn't. It was a carefully controlled experiment. Kind of like science.
First I put on the ViL's down jacket and had him shoot me in the back. I couldn't really feel the impact, though I kinda felt the fabric move. That was a bit disappointing, given what we had in mind. Then the ViL put on the jacket. Similar experience. Then I tried to convince him to let me shoot him in the chest with only a shirt between him and the plastic pellet. He said no. He did let me shoot him in the butt. Over the pocket, he felt it, but it wasn't painful. Above the pocket he said it stung.
Good.
-0-
We want to use the BB gun to shoot cats. We don't really want to wound them, but we do want to scare the begeezus out of 'em. There are a couple of neighbourhood toms that come into our house, eat our expensive anti-allergy cat food, terrorise and wound our kitties costing us money on vet bills and piss on our stuff. Not acceptable. We've tried locking them out, we've tried squirt guns, yelling and arm-waving.
Now it's time to bring out the small guns.
So far, the Vol-in-Law has managed to wing one of the cats. The result is that the cat does make itself scarce - as in over the garden fence - when he sees us, where before he arrogantly retreated a mere few feet.
That's a start.
Anyway, the gun was a gift to me too if I could say "Hey, my brother, mom bought my husband a BB gun for Christmas. Something she still wouldn't buy you."
This BB gun is some sort of "safe" version, though - hardly what a boy most desires. For one thing, the safety won't stay off unless you're actively pressing on it. For another, it's battery operated with a constant force of BB expulsion - that means you can't pump it up higher and higher and higher resulting in a more painful shooting experience. And it uses plastic pellets, not those little metal eye poppers.
But it still hurts to be hit by this BB gun. I know this because that's what the Vol-in-Law told me when I shot him.
It sounds like a domestic, I know, but it wasn't. It was a carefully controlled experiment. Kind of like science.
First I put on the ViL's down jacket and had him shoot me in the back. I couldn't really feel the impact, though I kinda felt the fabric move. That was a bit disappointing, given what we had in mind. Then the ViL put on the jacket. Similar experience. Then I tried to convince him to let me shoot him in the chest with only a shirt between him and the plastic pellet. He said no. He did let me shoot him in the butt. Over the pocket, he felt it, but it wasn't painful. Above the pocket he said it stung.
Good.
-0-
We want to use the BB gun to shoot cats. We don't really want to wound them, but we do want to scare the begeezus out of 'em. There are a couple of neighbourhood toms that come into our house, eat our expensive anti-allergy cat food, terrorise and wound our kitties costing us money on vet bills and piss on our stuff. Not acceptable. We've tried locking them out, we've tried squirt guns, yelling and arm-waving.
Now it's time to bring out the small guns.
So far, the Vol-in-Law has managed to wing one of the cats. The result is that the cat does make itself scarce - as in over the garden fence - when he sees us, where before he arrogantly retreated a mere few feet.
That's a start.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Happy New Year
Happy New Year - I hope every day next year is lucky for you.
And for those not in the know - black eyed pea eatin' for us is like dram drinking or first footing for the Scots.
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