Month: April 2005

BoingBoing linked to an article about the latest incarnation of the mall. I found the conclusion interesting:

The lifestyle center is a bizarre outgrowth of the suburban mentality: People want public space, even if making that space private is the only way to get it.

I’ve had that kind of feeling before. Where I wanted to just buy a bunch of land, and put everything I needed on it, and be self-sufficient, because I didn’t trust other people to treat me right, or to make the products I wanted, or not to kill me when I went out for a walk. It’s an outgrowth of our do-it-yourself mentality, I think, the one that has turned us all into islands.

Mix egg and milk. Add cheese, oats, onion, and salt. Mix in beef with your hands. Form beef into 8 loaves and place into a greased 13X9X2 pan.

Mix ketchup, brown sugar, and mustard. Spoon on top of loaves.

Bake at 350° for 45 minutes, or until the loaves reach an internal temperature of 160°.

These are really, really, really good. I’m making them for dinner tonight.

The other day I biked to work, and when I left to go home I had a bunch of mail to take, so I rigged it all up in a trash bag in my bike basket and headed out. I decided to go down Old Petersburg instead of taking Martinez Boulevard to get to the post office. This was actually a mistake, because it’s much longer that way, and Old Petersburg has some nasty hills. But I didn’t know that at the time. Oh well.

Anyway, while I was on Old Petersburg I saw some really pretty flowers. I also saw a home for sale. It is probably way too big and expensive for me and Sean, but it looked really great. Unfortunately I can’t find a listing for it anywhere, so I have no idea what it’s going for, or even if it is still on the market. It had a two car garage and a nice yard, and I think that would be a nice and convenient place to live. It probably costs a zillion dollars.

The interminal week continues.

Apparently, if you clear a flat surface, my boss will have it covered with his crap by the next morning.

Meanwhile, some people, rather than, oh, I don’t know, emptying the trash can when they put their stinky leftovers in it, instead continue piling garbage into the can until it’s overflowing onto the drinks sold to customers. Because god forbid they should have to clean up after themselves.

In other news, drivers who tailgate you down two streets when there was plenty of room to pass and when you’re going the speed limit are shitheads.

Also, even my bastion of light and hope, R. Gabriel’s, dropped the ball this morning by 1) making me the wrong smoothie; 2) not putting the lid on correctly, so that it spilled all over my shirt and pants. The only upside is that it is a delicious smoothie, but that’s to be expected.

Things that have been said to me:

• I resent you, because you get paid and I don’t, yet you get on your blog at work sometimes, which means that obviously you don’t respect the fact that you get paid. But, as a businessman, who are you going to employ? The team that can do the job in a week, or the one drug addict who can get it done in an hour?
• I can’t afford to pay you a decent salary, or give you decent hours doing the things that need to be done. Oh, look, I bought myself an Aeron chair!
• Ooo, want to hold hands?

(That last when our hands brushed as we both went for the same drawer in a filing cabinet. I said, “No thank you, I’ll pass!” with such fervor that he didn’t say anything else.)

Three more days of this shit. Jesus.

So, this is just me, embarrassed by my previous post and trying to get it off the top of the page :> As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t delete stuff I’ve written, even if I feel really stupid about it afterwards. I’m like Eric Burns in that way.

I’m about to go for lunch, which will be nice. I like lunch. Lunch is good.

My last week here is going so, so slowly. Today feels like it really ought to be Friday. Alas.

I have a few documents I need to write up for my boss. He may find them surprising. I’ll give them to him on my last day, so I need to hurry up and do it. I’ll tell you guys what they are after I’ve given them to him.

I didn’t have any dreams last night, but I did keep hitting snooze. I didn’t ride my bike to work.

Funny thing–my alarm clock and Sean’s alarm clock somehow, magically, got switched to the proper time on Sunday. I have no idea how it happened. I have no recollection of changing the time on either of them. I remember changing the clock in the office, and the clock on the microwave, and noting that somehow the clock in the oven already had the right time on it. But Sean was still in bed then, so I didn’t go into the bedroom to change those clocks. How did they get changed?! I asked Sean if he did it, and he said no…

Hmm, is that enough text? I want to go have lunch :>

…who’ll clean Bob’s blood, doo-doo, and skin off the toilet seat every day?

So on Saturday, I rode for about an hour and a half, and walked my bike for an additional twenty minutes or so. (More details on that ride to come.) Yesterday, I went riding at the Greeneway with Brooke for about an hour. And this morning, I decided to bike to work.

Right now my legs are sobbing, “What have I done to deserve this?!”

But I feel great.

My diet finally seems to be back on track. I’m not overeating (at all!) due to burning so many calories. I finally went grocery shopping yesterday, too, which will help. (Sean was kind enough to help with the laundry so I could go to the store.) I may be close to getting over that big hurdle…getting past the weight that really makes me feel big. I will be so happy when that day arrives :>

This is my last week at 2go-Box/Proactive Genetics. Next week, I’m heading to Kentucky for a nice vacation with family :) I have the option of flying for cheap, and I may do it given current gas prices, but I feel the itch to drive. Driving makes a trip seem more real, like I’m truly on an adventure. I’d also like to bring my bike, which I wouldn’t even want to try if I were flying. We’ll see what I decide.

Either that, or when people say “Here’s a new meme”, they are really saying “Here’s a new [questionnaire] meme”, because these “memes” tend to be a specific, new type of questionnaire.

At the risk of sounding like the incredibly nitpicky Englishphile Miss Em linked to recently–a person who apparently despises language change–I would like to point out that the word “meme” can be used for many things besides questionnaires.

As if I need another reason, but…

Look! You can buy sakura sweets online! (Via About.com.)

This morning, as is normal for me lately, I stopped at R. Gabriel’s to get a smoothie. My car conveniently decided to stall right as I turned into the parking lot, so I coasted into a parking space rather than going through the drive thru–there was a car there already, so I figured I’d rather wait inside anyway.

As I was getting ready to leave with my smoothie, I stopped to check the little shelf where people put flyers and business cards. When I turned to the door, an older gentleman was coming through it, so I waited for him to come in before leaving. However, he came right up to me.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning!” I replied. “How are you today?”

“Much better–” he said. I should have seen what was coming, in retrospect, but at the time all I could think was that he must be recovering from an illness. Then he continued, “–now that I’ve seen your beautiful smiling face.”

I grinned with embarrassment and delight. “Thank you!” I managed to move around him towards the door. “I am married, though.”

“I know you’re spoken for,” the man said in his smooth, pleasant voice, still smiling at me. I wasn’t sure how to react to that, so I just smiled one last time and slipped through the door. The whole thing had me laughing to myself in the car as I continued on to work.

I’m still not sure what he meant by that “I know” statement–maybe he’d seen the ring. But I dunno, it’s so flattering to have people talk to me like that. I think it must be a Southern thing, because it’s not like I’ve all of a sudden become overwhelmingly beautiful. I hope I continue to enjoy the attention, rather than getting cynical about it. It brings the men pleasure to compliment me (apparently), and it brings me pleasure to be complimented, so what’s the problem?

;>

Michael Schiavo won’t tell Terri’s parents where she’s being buried, or where the cremation will take place, or anything.

Meanwhile, the Schindlers are selling the list of names of people who donated to their cause to a direct mailing firm.