I’m the first person to admit that I’m probably not ready to start another relationship right now, but that doesn’t mean that looking hurts. This means that browsing profiles online (without applying to any of them, just peeking) does no harm to anyone, including me and the men on the sites.
In the course of my online browsing I have been occaisionally amused, sometimes annoyed, and seldom intrigued or tempted. Perhaps I expect a too high level of physical attractiveness, or perhaps the packaging is just all wrong.
If you happen to be a man considering creating an online profile, perhaps you might want to keep these impressions in mind. I can’t be the only woman to have them.
First, y’all have a lot of problems picking good pictures.
By any means do not post a picture of yourself and a woman, even if most of her is cut out of the picture. We can tell. It does not matter if this woman is your sister. It does not matter if this is the gosh-darn most flattering picture ever taken of you in your life and you look like a three-footed troll with a purple complexion in any other picture. (If this is the case you have my permission to photoshop her out of the picture as long as you leave no clues. And you have my sympathies.) By posting a picture of yourself with said female most of us automatically assume that you are still hung up on that former girlfriend- or have had no life outside her.
Do not post a your senior picture from high school, or a picture that looks remarkably like one. This might actually be slightly forgivable if you are 18, but those of us that are looking for men older than 18 can get concerned about one of two things. First, we may be concerned that you never really left high school. Emotionally, mentally, high school was the high point in your life and you want to relive those glory days. Second, have you lost all your hair and gained a potbelly since high school? What other reasons really might a 30 year-old man for posting a photo taken of him when he was seventeen?
Please put on a shirt. Unless perhaps you are an underwear model, and maybe not even then. On an average dating site, this just makes you look a little skeezy. You dress up for a first date, at least put on a nice t-shirt to make a first online impression.
Do not post fifteen photos of yourself, that’s just overkill. What better way is there for the average browser to assume that you are a narcissist? I can understand the appeal of offering more than photo. There are pictures that can show different sides of you. I appreciate that. But post three photos tops.
So far, these are my biggest gripes other than the traditional ones. Don't lie about your age obviously is another good standard.
Man, the dating world sucks.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Saturday, June 24, 2006
There's a certain comfort in touch. The smoothness of the back of a neck, the smell of sun tan lotion and chlorine mingling with the scent of someone's skin, the warmth of a familiar callused hand on the small of your back in an unfamiliar place, guiding you in a crowd can all make you feel known and cared for.
I am not a touchy feely person. Barring with puppies and small children, most kinds of touch including hugging and even shaking hands leave me somewhere from mildly disgusted to entirely grossed out. This drives my handsy mother crazy, though she says that I've always been like this. As an infant she said she knew I was sick when I wanted to be held.
The only other exception to this rule really is men to whom I am romantically involved with.
It's been a long time since I've felt the simple comfort and protection of an arm around my waist or a larger hand in mine. I'm too smart to seek temporary comfort- I know it creates more problems than solutions in the long run.
Instead, I snuggle my dog closer if she'll let me.
There are different brands of lonely. Tonight I wish I could be held while I drift off to sleep by a man that cares about me.
I am not a touchy feely person. Barring with puppies and small children, most kinds of touch including hugging and even shaking hands leave me somewhere from mildly disgusted to entirely grossed out. This drives my handsy mother crazy, though she says that I've always been like this. As an infant she said she knew I was sick when I wanted to be held.
The only other exception to this rule really is men to whom I am romantically involved with.
It's been a long time since I've felt the simple comfort and protection of an arm around my waist or a larger hand in mine. I'm too smart to seek temporary comfort- I know it creates more problems than solutions in the long run.
Instead, I snuggle my dog closer if she'll let me.
There are different brands of lonely. Tonight I wish I could be held while I drift off to sleep by a man that cares about me.
Friday, June 23, 2006
It Comes at Night
The events of the past year sometimes feel a bit like a nightmare to me. Possibly because they sometimes are.
Every couple of weeks I dream about him. In my dreams I continually try and convince him to work on our marriage, that divorce is not the first thing we should try. Once I dreamed that he held me comfortingly. Last night I was chasing him around, trying to convince him of the logic that you have to try and change something before you just throw it away. I remember not wanting to sign divorce papers in my dream. In the dream we were divorcing, but still living together and hanging out a lot. I know there was something else in the dream, but it faded as I woke up.
Not everything fades when I wake up. After one of these lovely dreams I usually find myself depressed for a few hours to a whole day.
Hope the beginning of everyone else's day is happier than mine.
Every couple of weeks I dream about him. In my dreams I continually try and convince him to work on our marriage, that divorce is not the first thing we should try. Once I dreamed that he held me comfortingly. Last night I was chasing him around, trying to convince him of the logic that you have to try and change something before you just throw it away. I remember not wanting to sign divorce papers in my dream. In the dream we were divorcing, but still living together and hanging out a lot. I know there was something else in the dream, but it faded as I woke up.
Not everything fades when I wake up. After one of these lovely dreams I usually find myself depressed for a few hours to a whole day.
Hope the beginning of everyone else's day is happier than mine.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
The Number People
I don't really like math all that much. I much prefer the characters, people, and events found in the humanities. This interest in people may have influenced my ideas about numbers.
I think of numbers as people.
At least the first ten. The rest of them are a little fuzzy in that direction. Most of the odds are male, and most of the evens are female. There are a few exceptions. 6 and 9 are tomboys, and 8 is male as well. Eight is also a bit of a stuck up prick.
I don't know why I think this way. It's not as though I believe they are actual people, I just think of them like I think of characters in books or in movies. 8 is an uptight guy in the same way that Mickey Mouse is a talking mouse who wears gloves.
Either I am just weird, which is entirely possible, or there was some educational program that I watched far back in my youth that made a big impression in that I can't remember the program but I still think of numbers the way that the program portrayed them.
I've always thought that being weird was more interesting than being normal.
Reading: The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova
Listening: Million Colour Revolution by the Pinker Tones
Doing: Ripping up my kitchen floor
I think of numbers as people.
At least the first ten. The rest of them are a little fuzzy in that direction. Most of the odds are male, and most of the evens are female. There are a few exceptions. 6 and 9 are tomboys, and 8 is male as well. Eight is also a bit of a stuck up prick.
I don't know why I think this way. It's not as though I believe they are actual people, I just think of them like I think of characters in books or in movies. 8 is an uptight guy in the same way that Mickey Mouse is a talking mouse who wears gloves.
Either I am just weird, which is entirely possible, or there was some educational program that I watched far back in my youth that made a big impression in that I can't remember the program but I still think of numbers the way that the program portrayed them.
I've always thought that being weird was more interesting than being normal.
Reading: The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova
Listening: Million Colour Revolution by the Pinker Tones
Doing: Ripping up my kitchen floor
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Aviary Update
Yesterday marked the occaision of the third bird I had to chase out of my house this year thus far.
Dumb birds.
Dumb birds.
My Crazy Twisted Fantasies
I have a problem, I must admit. When I give myself over to a daydream I have to force it into semi-practical constraints. I can’t imagine farfetched scenarios for very long before the Spock in me forces my psyche to mold that fantasy into something that is more attainable. Hence my fantasies take the short bus to school.
I’ll give you an example by explaining a little game I sometimes play in my head when I’m bored at work or the victim of that pernicious fiend, Sunday night insomnia- Hollywood Boyfriend.
Hollywood Boyfriend operates under a variety of rules and guidelines. Some of them include:
1. Hollywood Boyfriend must, of course, be good looking.
That’s fairly obvious, though there are special points given to men who have made me laugh so hard I cried somewhere in their body of work.
2. Hollywood Boyfriend, in most cases, cannot be married in real life.
This rule is a little bit crazy, seeing that I’m only seeing Hollywood Boyfriend in a daydream capacity only. I once revealed this rule to my sister, who replied to me that Hollywood marriages generally don’t last very long, I should still be able to have a presently married Hollywood Boyfriend that is unmarried in the fantasy… I still can’t seem to break this rule very often, though. I wouldn’t want the fantasy guilt of being the fantasy cause of David Boreanaz’s fantasy divorce. He has a kid!
3. Hollywood Boyfriend cannot be a cheating louse- no matter how pretty he is.
Sorry Jude Law! You can’t change a man in real life, so even my fantasies don’t include magically making a cad into a Clio-worshipping, overly-respectful new man.
4. Hollywood Boyfriend cannot be too close in age to my parents.
That is, unless I have a time machine. In that case, however, I’m far more likely to be a young starlet in the 1930s or 40s dating Cary Grant (one of those years when he wasn’t married, of course) than hanging out with John Travolta in the seventies. I do have my time-travelling standards.
5. Hollywood Boyfriend is far more likely to be a television star or a B-list movie actor than an A-List star.
Why is this, do you ask? Because how likely am I, a normal though fairly attractive and intelligent midwesterner, to get the attention of an A-Lister? Sure, this question is just as likely for the slightly less famous set as well, but somehow that doesn’t matter as much. Then again, rule 4 above eliminates a great deal of men in the A-List set so maybe this rule is superfluous.
I know that laying bare my weird daydream rules will reveal me as the nutty and sometimes perfectionist freak that I am. Eh.
So, who is my present Hollywood Boyfriend? After discovering that Tom Everett Scott and Jason Dohring are both married, I’d have to say that I’m presently looking for a new one. Does anyone know if Brandon Routh, the new Superman, is married?
I’ll give you an example by explaining a little game I sometimes play in my head when I’m bored at work or the victim of that pernicious fiend, Sunday night insomnia- Hollywood Boyfriend.
Hollywood Boyfriend operates under a variety of rules and guidelines. Some of them include:
1. Hollywood Boyfriend must, of course, be good looking.
That’s fairly obvious, though there are special points given to men who have made me laugh so hard I cried somewhere in their body of work.
2. Hollywood Boyfriend, in most cases, cannot be married in real life.
This rule is a little bit crazy, seeing that I’m only seeing Hollywood Boyfriend in a daydream capacity only. I once revealed this rule to my sister, who replied to me that Hollywood marriages generally don’t last very long, I should still be able to have a presently married Hollywood Boyfriend that is unmarried in the fantasy… I still can’t seem to break this rule very often, though. I wouldn’t want the fantasy guilt of being the fantasy cause of David Boreanaz’s fantasy divorce. He has a kid!
3. Hollywood Boyfriend cannot be a cheating louse- no matter how pretty he is.
Sorry Jude Law! You can’t change a man in real life, so even my fantasies don’t include magically making a cad into a Clio-worshipping, overly-respectful new man.
4. Hollywood Boyfriend cannot be too close in age to my parents.
That is, unless I have a time machine. In that case, however, I’m far more likely to be a young starlet in the 1930s or 40s dating Cary Grant (one of those years when he wasn’t married, of course) than hanging out with John Travolta in the seventies. I do have my time-travelling standards.
5. Hollywood Boyfriend is far more likely to be a television star or a B-list movie actor than an A-List star.
Why is this, do you ask? Because how likely am I, a normal though fairly attractive and intelligent midwesterner, to get the attention of an A-Lister? Sure, this question is just as likely for the slightly less famous set as well, but somehow that doesn’t matter as much. Then again, rule 4 above eliminates a great deal of men in the A-List set so maybe this rule is superfluous.
I know that laying bare my weird daydream rules will reveal me as the nutty and sometimes perfectionist freak that I am. Eh.
So, who is my present Hollywood Boyfriend? After discovering that Tom Everett Scott and Jason Dohring are both married, I’d have to say that I’m presently looking for a new one. Does anyone know if Brandon Routh, the new Superman, is married?
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Update
I'm a little uninspired as to what to post, but I haven't been posting much lately, and for no apparent reason. I've done a lot of packing and cleaning this week. I ran some, watched some television. Nothing big.
The job search continues. I keep applying and applying, and I keep getting those polite letters telling me that they found a better fit. Of course, there are also jobs that I've applied for that I'm overly qualified for and I never hear back from at all. I have another interview on Monday for a position that seems fun and interesting, but it pays less than I made last year as a graduate student. Not a good sign.
I think my dog (the chubby one) has lost some weight. We've been running the park almost daily, and her waistline is starting to be a little more visible. She'll always be a bit of a chunk since she's built wide, but I'm glad that she's getting in shape.
I can't promise that my next post will be any more interesting, but I certainly hope it will. Maybe I'll blame this one on my recent lack of a decent night's sleep. Or my general listlessness. Eh.
The job search continues. I keep applying and applying, and I keep getting those polite letters telling me that they found a better fit. Of course, there are also jobs that I've applied for that I'm overly qualified for and I never hear back from at all. I have another interview on Monday for a position that seems fun and interesting, but it pays less than I made last year as a graduate student. Not a good sign.
I think my dog (the chubby one) has lost some weight. We've been running the park almost daily, and her waistline is starting to be a little more visible. She'll always be a bit of a chunk since she's built wide, but I'm glad that she's getting in shape.
I can't promise that my next post will be any more interesting, but I certainly hope it will. Maybe I'll blame this one on my recent lack of a decent night's sleep. Or my general listlessness. Eh.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Days of Yore
Today was a long day. I took my dog for a run, then ran another several miles at home, then did some yoga and showered. Naturally after that I was fairly hungry. So I decided to have a snack.
There was a long, cool glass of lemonade waiting for me, and some pretzels that I'd picked up last week. As I was savoring the salty, sweet, and tart all at once, I was reminded of my not-entirely-distant youth.
When I was in grade school I attended Vacation Bible School at my church one week every summer. We'd meet in the sanctuary, sitting in groups by grades, singing hymns and pledging allegiance to the U.S. and Christian flags and the bible.
It was an honor to be chosen to hold a flag or bible, one that the older children particularly clamored for. Mr. Brandt would work with kids before the assembly, showing those lucky few the way to hold them in procession, at rest, and when your particular item was the object of a pledge.
After the morning assembly we parted into a variety of rooms where we learned songs, bible stories and bible verses, and made craft items like matchstick crosses or cross-emblazoned puffy paint t-shirts.
The day lasted until noon, but around eleven the building would stop for a half an hour while the kids lined up in the hallway near the church kitchen for the daily snack. There was a running list of snacks- one day was sandwhich cookie and Kool-Aid day, another was chips and (generic) cola day. The most popular day was always snow-cone day, usually Thursday. Snow cones on Friday were generally too much of a mess, since it was the last day and things were already a little hectic. Adding the messiest snack of the week to the mix didn't usually work.
Friday was often reserved for pretzels and lemonade. The lemonade was usually too sweet in that off-brand Kool-Aid way, and it usually tasted more like lemon cleaner than actual lemons. I never ate the pretzels myself. They were usually stale and unappetizing. Instead, I would often sit by myself, my mouth pursed in a perfect "O" and scrape the pretzel sticks clean of salt with my teeth in between sips of lemonade.
It was a simpler time. The memory evokes a kind of nostalgia- but not the kind where I wish I was still nine and reliving those events. Though I may just seek out a snow cone stand this summer.
There was a long, cool glass of lemonade waiting for me, and some pretzels that I'd picked up last week. As I was savoring the salty, sweet, and tart all at once, I was reminded of my not-entirely-distant youth.
When I was in grade school I attended Vacation Bible School at my church one week every summer. We'd meet in the sanctuary, sitting in groups by grades, singing hymns and pledging allegiance to the U.S. and Christian flags and the bible.
It was an honor to be chosen to hold a flag or bible, one that the older children particularly clamored for. Mr. Brandt would work with kids before the assembly, showing those lucky few the way to hold them in procession, at rest, and when your particular item was the object of a pledge.
After the morning assembly we parted into a variety of rooms where we learned songs, bible stories and bible verses, and made craft items like matchstick crosses or cross-emblazoned puffy paint t-shirts.
The day lasted until noon, but around eleven the building would stop for a half an hour while the kids lined up in the hallway near the church kitchen for the daily snack. There was a running list of snacks- one day was sandwhich cookie and Kool-Aid day, another was chips and (generic) cola day. The most popular day was always snow-cone day, usually Thursday. Snow cones on Friday were generally too much of a mess, since it was the last day and things were already a little hectic. Adding the messiest snack of the week to the mix didn't usually work.
Friday was often reserved for pretzels and lemonade. The lemonade was usually too sweet in that off-brand Kool-Aid way, and it usually tasted more like lemon cleaner than actual lemons. I never ate the pretzels myself. They were usually stale and unappetizing. Instead, I would often sit by myself, my mouth pursed in a perfect "O" and scrape the pretzel sticks clean of salt with my teeth in between sips of lemonade.
It was a simpler time. The memory evokes a kind of nostalgia- but not the kind where I wish I was still nine and reliving those events. Though I may just seek out a snow cone stand this summer.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Update
birds in house this year: 2
reading: Newcomer's Handbook for Moving to and Living in New York City
listening: Moby (Play and 18) and The Raconteurs
this week's mileage total: 22.53 miles run
dishes washed this weekend: 3 loads (I'm beginning to think that there's a dirty dishes gnome who drinks out of my cups and uses my bowls when I'm gone....)
papers I should have written before right now: 2
things I'd rather be doing: about 150
days since I last saw Darcy: 51
job applications I've sent in and not heard back on: 8
hours I'll probably sleep tonight: 5
cool new t-shirts I got this weekend- 2 (one has a Fraggle Rock design on it, the other has a picture from Sixteen Candles that says "I love Jake Ryan" underneath it. So cool.)
reading: Newcomer's Handbook for Moving to and Living in New York City
listening: Moby (Play and 18) and The Raconteurs
this week's mileage total: 22.53 miles run
dishes washed this weekend: 3 loads (I'm beginning to think that there's a dirty dishes gnome who drinks out of my cups and uses my bowls when I'm gone....)
papers I should have written before right now: 2
things I'd rather be doing: about 150
days since I last saw Darcy: 51
job applications I've sent in and not heard back on: 8
hours I'll probably sleep tonight: 5
cool new t-shirts I got this weekend- 2 (one has a Fraggle Rock design on it, the other has a picture from Sixteen Candles that says "I love Jake Ryan" underneath it. So cool.)
Thursday, June 01, 2006
P.S.
The stupid bird came back today. It took me twenty minutes to get it off my ceiling and outside,
He he.
I've been researching real estate, neighborhoods, and etcetera about New York and I and excited. I've been fantasizing about my new life and let me tell you, it makes me happy.
Right now I like Jackson Heights, Queens. Bear in mind, I may change my mind. So right now I'm looking at apartments and restaurants and other things in the area and imagining how my new life might be. I imagine walking my dog down the street or in one of the private parks. I imagine, instead of going to Taco Bell after work, stopping at one of the taco carts or Indian restaurants on the way home. I can decorate my place with neat little pieces from the Indian shops in the neighborhood and go to Bollywood movies on weekends when I'm not taking the subway to Manhattan to see a play or concert. I can buy a share in the community garden, and brush up on my Spanish and actually use it. I can teach a summer class at one of the many community colleges. I can spend my summer writing at cafes and haunting the public library system. And I'm going to get a digital camera so I can post all sorts of neat photos of my goings- on if not for you then for my family who will miss me very much.
June is busting out all over- she must need a bigger girdle.
Right now I like Jackson Heights, Queens. Bear in mind, I may change my mind. So right now I'm looking at apartments and restaurants and other things in the area and imagining how my new life might be. I imagine walking my dog down the street or in one of the private parks. I imagine, instead of going to Taco Bell after work, stopping at one of the taco carts or Indian restaurants on the way home. I can decorate my place with neat little pieces from the Indian shops in the neighborhood and go to Bollywood movies on weekends when I'm not taking the subway to Manhattan to see a play or concert. I can buy a share in the community garden, and brush up on my Spanish and actually use it. I can teach a summer class at one of the many community colleges. I can spend my summer writing at cafes and haunting the public library system. And I'm going to get a digital camera so I can post all sorts of neat photos of my goings- on if not for you then for my family who will miss me very much.
June is busting out all over- she must need a bigger girdle.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Sleep
I am sooo tired. My sleep schedule is off, and over the weekend I've been sleeping in and then ruining my schedule for the next day. Hopefully I'll get back on track soon.
I am glad I only have two more weeks of this silly class. Ninety pages a night is way too much work when the class meets daily.
Not much to say today. Chloe and I took a long walk in the park, and I wore the wrong shoes. Now I am paying the price hobbling all around my house.
Good night. I'm going to enjoy my freshly squeezed lemonade.
I am glad I only have two more weeks of this silly class. Ninety pages a night is way too much work when the class meets daily.
Not much to say today. Chloe and I took a long walk in the park, and I wore the wrong shoes. Now I am paying the price hobbling all around my house.
Good night. I'm going to enjoy my freshly squeezed lemonade.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Another Argument for New York
I am a pizzaholic. Enough said.
Today was a nice day. I lounged around watching tv in bed for awhile, did some laundry, and took my dog for a nice run at the park. Both of us are getting in better shape because of these runs. Though I'm used to the humm of my treadmill and probably run slower in the park, the hills really give me a workout I don't get at home.
Now to chain myself to my homework for the next day, and to my computer to finish a few new cover letters and resumes. Gotta pay the bills. I'll probably fit in another dog walk too.
Hope you're all enjoying your holiday weekends.
Today was a nice day. I lounged around watching tv in bed for awhile, did some laundry, and took my dog for a nice run at the park. Both of us are getting in better shape because of these runs. Though I'm used to the humm of my treadmill and probably run slower in the park, the hills really give me a workout I don't get at home.
Now to chain myself to my homework for the next day, and to my computer to finish a few new cover letters and resumes. Gotta pay the bills. I'll probably fit in another dog walk too.
Hope you're all enjoying your holiday weekends.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
My To Do List
I have made a resolution. Possibly not a shocking one, or not even one I will keep with 100% certainty. However, I have been rather down this week since my fifth wedding anniversary was marked only by filing preliminary divorce papers (I don't know what the legal terms are- we're not divorced yet, we're haggling over our house and Darcy). I also haven't seen Darcy in about five weeks. So this resolution is giving me something to focus my energy on and something positive to look forward to.
I have decided to move to New York in a year.
Deep breath.
I am a hard-core suburbanite who has lived in a smallish midwestern city the past five years. I was raised fundamentalist and with very conservative values. I have grown increasingly more liberal (radical?) as I have piled on the years of higher education. The city I live in is the only Democratic haven in the state, barring the University I attend. I wouldn't be lying to say I have not been looking forward to leaving my liberal haven and being pushed once more into flag-waving, Bush-loving suburbia. Not to mention all I ever wanted to do for a living when I was in high school was act and write.
I hate driving. I love the arts. I've always wanted to leave much closer to water. I would adore the adventure of making my way in a new place where no one knows me and isn't dotted with places that remind me of having a broken heart.
I have given up a number of opportunities for the sake of love and my marriage. I have made a ton of sacrifices willingly and happily for the sake of Ratfink. If he could have treated me like a person and loved me, I still could have been happy with that. But my life is now going on another path. I want to start doing things that will make me happy. I want to live my life for me for once.
First I have to sell my house here and get a job. I plan on saving the money I make off the house and saving as much of my income next year as possible. When I move in with my parents, I will get rid of as many of my belongings (give away, sell, throw out) when I move to my parents' basement, and thus streamline my posessions. I also plan to take Krav Maga over the next year. It'll get me in shape and help me feel more confident.
Then next year after the school year ends, I will move to New York a few weeks before school starts, get to know the city, vacation from my new home and enjoy being in the coolest city in the country.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Is this a real word?
It's the Clark County word of the week. It is something I have been practicing for a number of years, but is it a real word?
"Longanimity" is a noun which means: patient endurance of injuries
Vote- does this word sound made up?
"Longanimity" is a noun which means: patient endurance of injuries
Vote- does this word sound made up?
Morning Quickie
Any of you that have inside dogs probably can guess what the first thing I do in the morning is- other than tiredly curse the morning, that is. I take my dog out for a pit stop.
Everything was fairly normal this morning. Dog sniffing, dog squatting, dog barking at squirrels walking the telephone lines. My dog generally barks, standing on her hind legs as if she can reach the phone lines until the squirrels are long out of sight. As a result, I idly checked the status of the squirrels so I could figure out when my dog might calm down and come inside. (As per the aforementioned tendency of my dog to be a Houdini, I always go outside with her.) What I got-for looking at the squirrels- was an eyeful.
It was fur on fur, wild and crazy squirrel sex on top of the telephone pole (how phallic....)
Hmmmm. More's the pity, I'm not sure anything else in my day today is going to top that.
Everything was fairly normal this morning. Dog sniffing, dog squatting, dog barking at squirrels walking the telephone lines. My dog generally barks, standing on her hind legs as if she can reach the phone lines until the squirrels are long out of sight. As a result, I idly checked the status of the squirrels so I could figure out when my dog might calm down and come inside. (As per the aforementioned tendency of my dog to be a Houdini, I always go outside with her.) What I got-for looking at the squirrels- was an eyeful.
It was fur on fur, wild and crazy squirrel sex on top of the telephone pole (how phallic....)
Hmmmm. More's the pity, I'm not sure anything else in my day today is going to top that.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
The Bird Bell Curve
The birds in my neighborhood are decidedly dumber than your average birds.
Exhibit A: Last summer I would be sitting in my living room minding my own business, reading on the couch or watching television. From time to time I would hear the chirping sound of birds and think to myself, "that really sounds close." I would think nothing of it for a while, until I would suddenly look up and notice my kitty. She would be sitting at my feet quietly, with a live bird perched in her mouth. This scenario happened to me several times last summer, and I believe happened to the Ratfink (my soon-to-be-ex-husband) once or twice as well.
After said kitty would appear with said bird, myself or Ratfink would grab the bird and release it out of doors before the cat or one of our dogs decided to kill the bird all over our new carpet. Eh, and I guess we were concerned for the bird's sake as well. We weren't sure if it was the same bird, but it was definitely the same species. Eventually, the bird did not make it out of the house and no bird reappeared in our house. Until today.
Exhibit B: I had just brought Chloe inside from her last bathroom break for the night and was talking to my mom on the phone. As we were talking I heard the familiar noise of my dog tearing through the house on a chase. My dog and my cat aren't really on the best of terms. I'm pretty sure that my dog can't understand why we haven't let her eat the cat already. I don't know how many times I've spied my black dog with a shockingly white clump of fur in her mouth. Point is, I assumed my dog was yet again chasing my poor cat.
I was wrong. I looked over and saw, instead of my black and white fuzzykins at the mercy of my pig-dog, but a small grey bird much like the one who I got to know personally last summer. Who, when I tore my dog away from it, promptly flew up my stairs.
"Great," I think, now I'm going to have a bird in my belfry! I'll never get it out!"
Luckily, fast reflexes and some minor plastic bag wrangling allowed me to get the birdie out the back door. It even flew away fairly normally into the night. Hopefully not to return on semi-regular intervals until its untimely death.
Exhibit C: The pidgeons that live in my spare-room window next to the window unit air conditioner keep coming back. I've sprayed any number of chemicals and scents on the window area, cleaned the window out of the nest weekly, and even (ashamedly) committed pidgeon-chick-icide. But that window must still be getting 4 stars in the Michelin guide, because there are no shortage of birds that want to live there.
Can you understand why I think that there must be a family of inbred sub-normal birds living in my neighborhood? Why and how do they keep sneaking into my house? Why do I encourage my animals not to kill them? (other than the obvious carpet-stains and possible digestive issues involved)
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
The Wait is Excruciating
I am at the point where I have been applying for and interviewing for jobs for about two months. I am beginning to grow tired of the procedure.
The job I applied for two months ago has yet to make any move forward. The job I went through a month of 4 different interviews and made it to the last cut, me versus one other applicant, has yet to call back. My putative boss said that he would make the decision right away.
It's been 48 hours.
Ring, phone. Ring.
I'm afraid that I'm going to be getting a polite letter in the mail tomorrow.
On the other hand, the girls' school that liked me a lot (but didn't hire me) has posted another job. I'm encouraged. The letter they sent me didn't sound like a form, and it did say that I was one of the most qualified applicants.
In other news, I now have a pink kitchen. It looks a lot better than it did, but I really am learning to exercise care when choosing paint. The colors can really look different on the tiny 2 inch sample versus on a huge wall. I thought the color was more of a peach pink and it looks more a ballet slipper pink. But at least the wallpaper is all down, the cracks in the wall are fixed, and the walls are all one color. It's a start. All I have left to do is clean and floor a couple of rooms and the house will be ready. Right when it starts to look a little nice.
Summer class started two days ago and I should probably be reading Max Weber instead of blogging, but I saw comments and the joy of being read prompted me to leave an update. Hopefully I'll have better news tomorrow....
Friday, May 19, 2006
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
This is the Interview that Doesn't End...
I had a VERY long job interview today. It took almost three hours. It's a decent job, with the possibility of teaching a little part time. It would start soon, so money won't be nearly as much of a problem as it is right now. I hope I get it.
Things have been in flux for a long time. I can't say how wonderful it would be to be able to have a regular paycheck, work friends, have something to dress up for each morning. I could start saving money for my down payment, work on qualifying for a loan for a new place.
Anyway, I'm also on an upswing in my running. After cutting back due to almost breaking my knee, then because of finals and a sore ankle, I ran a whole 8 miles yesterday. That's my longest run since Christmas break. Maybe I'll be ready to run in the half marathon this fall.
I read a book last night. This was the first book I've managed to read since class ended. I have felt so overwhelmed. When I finished my masters last spring I read a lot- but my reading material devolved into an orgy of chicklit and bubblegum fiction. This spring I've read a few magazines, but for the most part sat back and vegged out in front of the television.
There are times in our lives when we need a certain kind of comfort food. At the moment, reading hasn't been mine. The reading, however, is making me feel more like myself than before.
Things have been in flux for a long time. I can't say how wonderful it would be to be able to have a regular paycheck, work friends, have something to dress up for each morning. I could start saving money for my down payment, work on qualifying for a loan for a new place.
Anyway, I'm also on an upswing in my running. After cutting back due to almost breaking my knee, then because of finals and a sore ankle, I ran a whole 8 miles yesterday. That's my longest run since Christmas break. Maybe I'll be ready to run in the half marathon this fall.
I read a book last night. This was the first book I've managed to read since class ended. I have felt so overwhelmed. When I finished my masters last spring I read a lot- but my reading material devolved into an orgy of chicklit and bubblegum fiction. This spring I've read a few magazines, but for the most part sat back and vegged out in front of the television.
There are times in our lives when we need a certain kind of comfort food. At the moment, reading hasn't been mine. The reading, however, is making me feel more like myself than before.
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