How I came to love the word perspicacious
December 13, 2009
One day, Chris Gargan and I were talking. He called me perspicacious. People respect and admire him and hang on his every word at times. You might remember Chris from a couple of my other posts as a big influence on my life. He also influenced my vocabulary. (Chris and my career; Chris names my rabbit.)
I like to think that I’m good at reading people and situations and picking up on subtleties that other people miss. Maybe that’s why I don’t like talking on the telephone all that much, because I can’t see the body language.
Granted, a lot of the time you don’t need to be hit on the head to sense the vibe. That often happens in relationships. Particularly the ends of relationships. But sometimes the other person might need help saying something. If you know what they want to say, you can help them get there. I assisted one boyfriend that way in breaking up with me. You don’t want to stay on a sinking ship, but by god I was going to make him be the one to say it. It wasn’t the most exciting relationship I had ever been in, however, I would have been okay with going on, but once I sensed that he had left mentally, well, what’s the point if the other person’s not into it?
I read between between the lines. Unfortunately, this can also lead to a certain amount of paranoia, even on a good day.
It was quite a lot of fun figuring out how to illustrate perspicacious for Tweak Today.
perspicacious [pur-spi-key-shuhs] –adjective
having keen mental perception and understanding; discerning: to exhibit perspicacious judgment.
What do I miss?
December 12, 2009
Most people say some people-related thing, which is not to discount those who are no longer with us. And I miss my childhood and the associated innocence of youth as much as anyone. But what I really miss is spares. Bowling spares.
Just a couple of years ago I would have said that I’d be happy if I could pick up one more spare per game. But I’m getting greedy. I should pick up TWO more spares per game. Because I usually leave three. I’d be okay with one open in a game. I coast along on my ability to throw strikes a lot of the time. I’ve had a 267 with three opens because the rest were strikes. Maybe it was two opens. I don’t remember. What I do remember is that it was the night of the great Super Slide Controversy. Super Slide is powder that makes things, such as the sole of your bowling shoe, more slippery, which helps you slide at the fowl line and have better form. A gal was subbing for our team who I had no previous opinion about. But she was not bowling as well as she should have been, and so she decided to blame her lack of productivity on the fact that I was dabbing, then blotting, a little bit of Super Slide on my shoe. She was convinced that the residue I was supposedly leaving behind was screwing her up on the approach. We don’t even walk the same line on the approach. Unless it’s a big split, there really is no reason for me to miss a spare pickup. It’s only due to my own lack of concentration. If I picked up just one more spare per game I’d raise my average 10 pins. Everyone wants a better average. Oh, and one time I missed a 300 by one pin.A funny thing happened because of the forum
December 11, 2009
An interesting transformation is taking place. I have noticed in the last week or so that I am watching significantly less television. I have had that goal for a long, long time but didn’t really take it seriously. I don’t mind the sitting around part of staring at the tube, but then suddenly a whole Saturday will have passed without accomplishing anything of consequence or even inconsequence, and I do mind that. Not doing anything contributes to my general feeling of lack of accomplishment in the big picture of my life.
Participating in Tweak Today seems to be changing that. At first, it was just the taking of a photo everyday. A lot of the time, you don’t really have to think too hard about the assignment, but sometimes you have a great opportunity to be truly creative. I was already feeling good about that little spark. Then, inspired by Emily’s blogwriting, I realized that I could use the Tweak Today mission as the inspiration for my own daily missive. And so, since November 1, I have been doing a pretty darned good job keeping up with it. As a consequence, when I come home after work I don’t turn on the television. No, instead I grab my iBook and write the day’s entry. In fact, it’s gotten to the point where I set a timer for myself because I’m spending too much time writing. Things seem to be snowballing. Last weekend, I left the tv off for a large part of both days and instead DID STUFF. And with today’s mission to Draw a Picture (as well as a few previous drawing missions), I find myself contemplating DRAWING every day, too. What is happening to me? At this rate I may finally follow through on my frequent threats to cancel my cable tv subscription. No, not that one, that’s still crazy talk. But I might find myself finally putting together a portfolio website. I might finally finish unpacking from my move four years ago. I might sort and get rid of a whole bunch of stuff I know I don’t need to keep around. I might begin to take tangible baby steps toward the London goal. All because I drew a beer bottle.7 lines of togetherness (vs. 6 degrees of separation)
December 10, 2009
So far, my life has five tangents, mathematically speaking with regard to the straight line between two points. I consider there to be two more lines of possibility for me, which makes seven in total. Two more lines of possibility and three more possible stations, one of which is not different than my current station (wild is the wind, TVC15 uh oh). I could do nothing and stay in MInneapolis which would add nothing to the total. Nobody doesn’t know that I want to move to London.
Not as many people know that I’d also be happy moving to San Francisco/Silicon Valley. I don’t mean for it to be a secret, I just don’t talk about it nearly as much. It would certainly be easier—it’s in the same country, after all. My rabbit and cats could ride in my car with me. But London is my overwhelming first choice. One of my best friends from Minneapolis moved to Silicon Valley three years ago. Since then, I became twitterrific and acquired many of his new California friends because they’re just friendly that way, and I love it. These are the folks that I have previously referred to as my first-generation of online friends. A lot of the time I feel very isolated geographically. Well, emotionally, too, but we’ll save that for another time. Two of the California people (three, counting their offspring who I don’t mean to discount, but she’s just so much younger, yet very mature for her early teen age) have ended up here. I don’t get the impression that this was their first choice, but sometimes you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do. My point is, they probably understand about feeling like you’re not in your final place overall. The seven lines business comes in this way: after my parents have been here for a few Christmas days, my new London friend is laying over at my airport at about the same time that my friend who moved to California is arriving from his Christmas weekend with his family in Wisconsin. Two other Californians are also coming here to visit. I’ve lost my train of thought. For a few hours, later this month Minneapolis will be the center of the universe, the place where all line segments intersect. It will be fun. [Ironically (and this time I do use ironically as opposed to coincidentally, which is most often more appropriate), a friend from here is from the same town I was born in–five lines separated.]Big deal, it snowed today
December 9, 2009
Today in Minnesota, we had our first consequential snowfall. It wasn’t significant in terms of inches (it looks like it was about one inch), but it certainly wrought havoc. I know it snows in Alaska in the summer. I know California is having their own unusually chilly weather. I know the UK is still trying to figure out how to build an ark. And apparently the American Southwest had snow yesterday and today and didn’t know what to do with it. (Did I forget anyone?) A few snowflakes shouldn’t faze us hardy Minnesotans. Nevertheless, every winter there is a period of adjustment. Heck, even a rain shower in the summer or a curve in the road throws traffic into chaos. It wouldn’t be half as bad if we were more courteous to each other on the road.
I was supposed to write about Minnesota license plates or, if I were writing a real entry for yesterday rather than relying on my bowling scores, about food that’s all the same color. Well, the snow made everything outside look the same color and I’ve heard that because of the snow, traffic was a mess which is related to license plates in that vehicles are supposed to have them.
I am glad that I don’t have to drive-commute to work. I benefit from readily available inner city public transportation and living less than two miles from where I work downtown. I can’t remember the last time I used my car to get to work. On the rare occasions when I do, it’s because I will be time-pinched to get somewhere right after work that is in the opposite direction of home. It would take me about 30 minutes or so to get home, get my car, and backtrack through downtown.
In the warmer weather I bicycle to work. It only takes 10 minutes and that’s a short enough length of time that I don’t get overheated (as a woman over 40, that’s an important consideration!). When it’s cooler, I strongly prefer to walk. It’s so much less stressful than dodging idiot, blinders-on car drivers with my bike. The walk takes about 30 minutes, which is a perfect length of time to decompress after the work day and to get physical health benefits. I call it utility recreation. I guess as a walker, I have a little adjustment period, too. Experience on the bike and on foot tells me that when the temperature is below 25°F, I need longjohns, so I always accomplish that part of the triquation. Last winter, I acquired my first ever sleeping-bag coat. Some of you know what that means. You know who you are. Today, I should have chosen the sleeping-bag coat over my merely big coat. My torso is always plenty warm even in the subbest of freezing temperatures, but the fronts of my thighs eventually get cold. Even 15 minutes (half the walk) is unpleasant enough. The sleeping bag goes down to mid-calf and takes care of that. But this weren’t nuthin’ today. Just talked to my parents in central Wisconsin and they’ve had a preemptive state of emergency declared for their possible foot of snow in the next 24 hours. They’re also 10°F warmer. I guess we Minnesotans got off lucky.Laundry vs. dishes
December 7, 2009
In my household there is no competition. I keep the dishes done because I don’t want to give the cats (either these two or my previous two) any reason to think that they need to jump on the kitchen counter. Like all good cats, I’m sure they must when I’m not looking.
Laundry, on the other hand, is the bane of my household chore existence. I HATE LAUNDRY. I hate the doing of it, I hate the putting away of it. That’s why I have oodles of socks and underwear—and really, clothes in general; that way I don’t have to do laundry more than once monthly. Since I have to do laundry at all, I am pleased that I can at least accomplish the task inside my own unit. Shortly after I moved in, I bought used (for $50) a portable washer and dryer from a former neighbor who sold his place. It was an excellent investment. I hook the washer up to the kitchen sink, and I have what still seems like a jury-rigged arrangement for venting the dryer inside. But I purpose-bought the “vent” at Home Depot, so it must be okay. It has been for four years, anyway. Although having the machines in my home mitigates some of the distress of the chore, it doesn’t alter the fact that it must still be put away. That’s why clean shirts are draped over the back of a futon chair just waiting for their next wearing (perfect place for that), and for at least half a year, socks and underwear have been plucked from a laundry basket that makes its current home atop the dryer. They may not be put away, but at least they’re clean. I offer no more than that.I like beer, it makes me feel mellow
December 6, 2009
There is no logical explanation for this photo. I was commanded to make up a drink using what was on hand. What was on hand was Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale, Southern Tier IPA, and Magic Hat Black as Night Winter Lager. Unlike the Southern Tier IPA which I liked and had only one left of, I was willing to donate the Magic Hat to the effort as I was unimpressed with the first five of it, and I had 11 of 12 of the SN Celebration Ale left.
I was hoping for a result like a Black and Tan, and I didn’t know which way might be more successful. I knew I’d sacrifice both bottles, so I tried pouring it both ways. Zero visual success. Taste results, um, drinkable but nothing special. A little like each of the ingredients. So, since that was largely a failure, or at least a non-event, let me tell you this about me and beer instead. I have five favorite breweries. And I have met three of five of the brewers. They are as follows (in the cliché, no particular order):
Lagunitas. I had the opportunity to meet Tony Magee in late summer. I convinced him to sponsor one of my bowling teams. Really.
Bell’s. Several years ago I fell in love with Oberon, and then several others. I met Larry Bell about a month ago when he was in town. He taught me that the reason why I like hoppier beers now is because hops have estrogen. Beer is my estrogen replacement therapy. Who knew? (Dan, that’s why people say it.)
Summit. From here in the Twin Cities. Summit EPA is my go-to beer. Most places have it. It is best at the Metrodome, where it flows cold and fresh. Eric—oh dear—Harper, is that you in the photo? I remember Eric, but not a surname.
Surly. My other favorite local brew. Furious is wicked good. Bender and Coffee Bender get me revved up! Haven’t met anyone from Surly yet. Sierra Nevada. They’re in California, so I wouldn’t expect to have met anyone—oh wait, Lagunitas is in California, too, and they sponsor my bowling team!… Maybe Sierra Nevada will read this and at least get in touch. Celebration Ale is nectar of the gods, and Pale Ale is a good all-rounder. Torpedo IPA’s not bad either. Red Seal Pale Ale is trying to sneak in to my best-of list.I am allergic to babies
December 5, 2009
I am allergic to babies. You heard me. I don’t think they’re cute and I don’t want to hold yours. I am also not a mother. Maybe if I had been, some innate susceptibility to pudgy faces with big doey eyes and 10 little sausage fingers and 10 little stubby toes would have been awakened in me. But I am not a mother and I am uncomfortable around babies.
I always figured I wanted kids—I’m a woman—I’m supposed to—right? And as an only child I always said that if I had one I’d have one more. When I was 25 and going through a dark emotional time, I came to the conclusion that one’s purpose in life was procreation of the species. I figured I’d be helping the cause by the time I was 30. Alas, then my only-child independence began to get in the way, and I know my lack of financial stability was a big hindrance as well. I was emotionally ready to be a mother, and kind of thinking that for me being a single mother would be preferable. However, I have never been in a position where I felt like I could afford to accomplish it on my own. And as I got older, my feeling that it was a necessary part of a currently satisfying life disappeared. I am happy as I am, just looking out for Number One. Selfish? Yeah. That’s one of the things I attribute to onlyness. I never had to share. What I am fairly certain of, however, is that 20, 30 years down the road when I’m a spinster with 37 cats and 3 rabbits, I will have a big hole in my heart where offspring could, and possibly should, have been. I will feel huge regret that I never opened myself up to a family. But that doesn’t mean I will go gaga for your baby. I will not. photo © ShutterstockWhy I love the movie ???Legally Blonde???
December 3, 2009
On the surface you’re all, this is some dumb chickflick about a little sorority Barbie who wants to get her boyfriend back. But it’s really a tale of amazing determination and personal growth. I find it inspiring.
The scene pictured above (©MGM, no doubt) is when Elle Woods decides that to regain the respect and interest of said boyfriend, she has to become a serious law student, the kind of girl the boyfriend’s brother is engaged to. She doesn’t give any thought to how impossible it seems to everybody else that she thinks she can gain admission to Harvard. She doggedly sets about the various tasks that need to be accomplished in her mission, and the next thing you know, there she is at Harvard orientation. After a few more setbacks, her determination kicks into overdrive and she gradually becomes the person no one gave her credit for ever possibly becoming. What I love about the character is that regardless of her misguided reason for making her decision in the first place, she sets a daunting goal, makes it happen, and as a result has incredible personal growth. I can learn a lot from Elle Woods. (The sequel wasn’t nearly as good.)What do you love the feel of?
December 3, 2009
Robbin Rabbit does not love the feel of being picked up, and he is merely polite about it until I release him. I made him endure this holding so that I could mimic the photo another gal took of her and her Rex rabbit. Rex rabbits’ fur feels like velvet.
Robbin is the Satin breed. That’s an apt description. He has an entirely different kind of fine, soft fur—silky smooth with a satiny sheen. And there is no softer fur than the fur at the nape of the neck of any rabbit. My cat Dasie’s white fur feels very fine and soft compared to her black fur. My cat CJ also has very soft, longish black fur which is even finer and softer than Dasie’s white fur. I love how it feels in the morning when I’m half awake and still cozy in bed under my electric blanket, just drifting in and out. That is, unless I have to go to the bathroom. Then I feel anxious and unable to relax until I’ve gotten up. Nothing beats standing under the hot shower. In the summer, it feels really good to depart from the overactive air conditioning in my office to go outside and turn my face to the sun. If the temperature is 75° or less, I even like just sitting in the sun for half an hour. I love the feel of a good wine buzz. Getting loopy on wine is completely different than getting loopy on beer, which is also pleasant, but not in the same way. When I go to bed at night, I always hope that CJ will come with me. If I offer her my arm and get positioned just right, she licks my wrist with her rough cat tongue and the feel of it puts me right to sleep. It works if it’s my wrist or hand; my forearm is too ticklish. I also love the feel of a cat purring when I’m holding her close. Dasie is the more violent purrer, so she’s a little more enjoyable. Those are all physical things. Then I got to thinking that there are a number of things that feel good on an emotional level. I realized that as I finished my Curves workout tonight. No matter how tired I am or what kind of fowl mood I might be in, I just feel happy for a good 90 minutes afterward. Let’s hear it for endorphins. I feel good about myself when I get up the hour earlier on work mornings that I really should do all the time. I get proverbial and literal warm fuzzies when I commune with my sweeties. Both cats like to be held, and even Robbin, if I leave his feet on the floor, will let me smother him in a hug. I’ll probably think of ten more things as soon as I post this, but these are the things that immediately come to mind. And keeping up with this blog makes me feel a sense of accomplishment, however trivial in the bigger scheme.
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