Out of Body Experience?

Dear Body,

I don't know where you came from, but are you sure you belong to me? I mean, I went away for 3 weeks in March and except for once, didn't do any running. Before I left, I could do 3 miles.

Then I come home, and I do a 4-mile run. Do 3 days of weight training, a walk in the woods and some intervals. This week I did a 5-mile run. Just because I felt good at the time and wanted to see if I could do it. And I did. With almost no pain. What is up with that?

How far do you intend to go? I hope you don't want to do a marathon someday. The brain has no intentions of ever doing that long of a run.

Keep it up though--I'm not complaining. I'm just a bit dumbfounded.

Your pal,
Jill

Oh, Monday

Dear Readers,

A little over a week ago, I dropped off my sports watch at a local jewelers to have the battery replaced. Though the place offers battery replacement while you wait, he was busy with another customer, so I offered to come back the next day. This, of course, has turned into something like 10 days.

Today I was determined to go pick it up, so even though I'm a bit behind on work, I walked the 20-25 minutes down to the jewelry store. Five feet before I got to the door, I realized the place was closed on Mondays.

Go figure.

I guess it's good that I needed the walk.

Your pal,
Jill

A Most Unwelcome Trend

Dear Readers,

Yesterday the Boy went to Miami for a work conference (seeing as how it got really cold here in Massachusetts yesterday, I don't pity him). Normally I don't mind him being gone for a few days--I get to watch bad TV and eat pizza and stay up way too late (actually, that last part is not such a good thing....I'd prefer to get more sleep, to be honest).

However, we seem to have a trend of "when one goes away, shit goes south" at the old apartment, and frankly, this is one trend I do not want to keep up with.

The first time was last year--I went away, and when I came back, we discovered we had mice. Then he went away right after that, and we really had a mouse problem that I was stuck dealing with (listening to mousetraps go off all night isn't pleasant).

Then this fall, I went away a lot, and the mice came back, and the Boy had to deal with some pretty disgusting stuff. You could say the Boy was lonely, and the mice wanted to play and keep him company, but he would beg to differ.

Now the Boy's gone again, and our water heater broke. Just when I tried to take a shower. Great. Plus I have a stack of dishes to wash.

The only good thing about this that because we rent, the several hundred dollars it will take to replace the water heater won't be coming out of our pockets.

Well, it's time to get out the stock pots (or at least the clean one) and start warming water the old-fashioned way. I can't sit around and wait for the plumber to show up. Gotta keep moving on.

Your pal,
Jill

Don't Take Dieting Advice at the Blood Bank

Dear Readers,

Yesterday, I donated platelets for the first time. It's something I've been meaning to do for a while--several months ago, I got a letter from the Red Cross basically saying that after doing scans of the blood I've donated (I try to donate blood regularly), my platelets were pretty freaking awesome, and it'd be helpful if I donated some.

I put the letter aside, always meaning to get back to them. You know how that goes. A few weeks ago, they called, and that's when I signed up.

Donating platelets is a two-hour process, during which blood gets drawn, the platelets are separated out, and the blood's put back into you, along with some saline. Honestly, part of the appeal of doing it was being forced to sit for two hours and not be on a computer. Yes, I still had screen time because I watched a movie ("Away We Go"), but it was a nice forced break. And, you know, I'm helping people.

However, donating platelets and blood doesn't necessarily do a diet good. I'm still plodding along in my quest to shed pounds, and it doesn't help me mentally to have the technician tell me, "You don't look like you weigh x!" Thanks. I do hide the weight well, but that's part of the problem I have--I feel like I look thinner than the scale says.

Later in the donation process, the technician asked if I wanted any water. "Sure, I'll have some water," I replied.

"We've got water, juice, and ginger ale," she said.

I hesitated. Well, if you're going to offer juice.....I ended up asking for cranberry juice.

She brought me two little cans of juice, along with two cookie bars. Then she brought the basket of salty snacks. "You can have whatever you want!"

I can have whatever I want? Platelet donation lets me? Right on! Being a person with a weight problem who thinks that donating platelets will also instantly suck the fat right out of you, I asked for some pretzels. The technician tried to push bags of popcorn and Cheez-Its on me too, but I had to draw the line somewhere.

After donating, I had a hankering for a bagel with cream cheese, so I wandered around downtown Boston until I found a Bruegger's. Had my bagel. Had my cream cheese. Had some hot chocolate. Hey, I'm thinking, at this point I need to listen to my body and feed it what it's asking for. Besides, no strenuous exercise or heavy lifting after donation!

Unfortunately, after the bagel, I felt the need for some kind of iron replenishment, and I seriously thought I was going to have to get a McDonald's cheeseburger, which would essentially have been a first dinner at that point. Granted, I wouldn't eat a second dinner until after that night's roller derby scrimmage, but the idea of putting so much food in my body didn't thrill me.

Luckily, I found a fruit stand and got a banana, which tided me over until I was able to finish the night with a huge bowl of chili smothered with cheese, or as I like to think, "protein and calcium."

Net weight loss on the day: + 2 pounds.

Oh well. Today's a new day. I can revel in the warm fuzzies that I helped some people with my platelets and get back on track.

Your pal,
Jill

The Straw that Might Break Me

Dear Readers,

There are few things that would cause me to divorce the Boy, but I think I have found the one that could be most threatening to our marriage: Doomsday Preppers.

This is a new show on the National Geographic channel that "explores the lives of otherwise ordinary Americans who are preparing for the end of the world as we know it." After watching glimpses of this show--to which the Boy eagerly watched--I wouldn't really call them "ordinary." No, these people all have a little bit of crazy in them.

Now, I love all sorts of reality TV, but the combo of Hoarders + Extreme Couponers + Doomsday Fanatics is a little too much for me to bear. Especially since the Boy has some survivalist tendencies to begin with. Sure, I can understand preparing for things--having a car emergency kit, having canned goods on hand in case it storms/snows and you can't get out of the house for a little while, having some water in case of a hurricane--but I draw the line at stockpiling 50,000 lbs. of food and acquiring an old school bus so you have an additional "house" in which to live. That's a totally different kind of preparedness--one that's prepping you for a lot of mental health treatments.

Luckily, we're not all that outdoorsy. It's really hard to find ice for your cocktails in the middle of the woods, so we tend to stay close to civilization. However, that doesn't stop the Boy from talking about getting a compound in the middle of nowhere and going off the grid after he's had a bad day at work. With a show that exposes other people who feel like this and are doing something about it, I worry that he thinks we should start preparing for a oil crisis or financial collapse or massive earthquake too.

Besides, he doesn't need "Doomsday Preppers" to teach him methods of getting through a disaster. He should just watch "Survivor" for that.

Your pal,
Jill

DVR Update

Dear Readers,

I'm cleaning off the DVR tonight. I vaguely remember a New Year's resolution about getting the DVR emptied. How am I doing?

Well, I'm at something like 56% empty. Not bad, not great. I'm making progress, though seriously, that's only helped by the fact that somehow the DVR erased a bunch of movies I'd taped and had never been in the mood to watch.

Finding out that I'd lost "Donnie Brasco" and "Zoolander" and "Up," was a little disappointing, so I've been on a bit of a crusade to work on the backlog that's still on the DVR. Unfortunately, I've got several episodes of "Glee" and "30 Rock" to burn through, and it's up against "Top Chef" and "Project Runway" and new seasons of "Survivor" and "The Amazing Race."

And I've got a stack of books to read.

Perhaps I should be a little more judicious with the delete button.

Your pal,
Jill

Stuff I'm Saying to The Boy

Dateline: Super Bowl Sunday, 2012

Me: I think after every time NBC shows Eli Manning, they should cut to Peyton Manning.

The Boy: Are you kidding?! Peyton Manning's not there! He's at home sitting on his couch, watching it on his big screen TV.

Me: At least Peyton Manning has a couch and a big screen TV. (beat) Why can't you be more like Peyton Manning?!

Nominee for Best Day of the Year

Dear Readers,

One for the records: Last Friday was The Day.

The Day is the most important day of winter. I never know when it will happen, but when it does, nothing could make me happier.

I'm talking about the day when I first notice that the days are getting longer. The day when I know that spring and summer--!-- are officially going to come and that it will get warmer. This is especially meaningful because I work in a drafty home office that's located directly above a stairwell. That whole scientific concept about bridges icing faster also applies in my house. The Day gives me hope that my work environment will once again be pleasant and not reliant on fuel oil and a space heater.

Most evenings I walk to the commuter rail to meet the Boy when he's coming home from work. The two-mile round trip gets me out of the house and gives me a little bit of exercise. I usually leave the house about 5:25 in order to meet him on time. In winter, it's usually a more difficult trek--it's dark, cold and sometimes icy/snowy; I'm wearing a dark coat; cars don't necessarily see me (though in Massachusetts, that's the norm). But when The Day comes, it's the start to the end of all of that for another year.

On Friday, I walked outside to go to the train station, and I saw it: The faintest hints of blue and orange far on the western horizon. It didn't last long--maybe five minutes at best--but it was there. And it's just a harbinger of days to come.

Therefore, I'd like to nominate The Day for Best Day of the Year. Some people might say Christmas is the best day of the year, or Mother's Day, or the First Day of School. I think The Day is right up there with them and worthy of such recognition.

Your pal,
Jill

Fun with Buttermilk

Dear Readers,

The other week I was at the grocery store, and thinking it would be nice to make some whoopie pies, I picked up a quart of buttermilk.

A couple of days later, I was at a different grocery store, and I thought it would be nice to make some whoopie pies, so I bought a quart of buttermilk.

A couple of days after that, I was digging through the fridge and discovered that I had two quarts of buttermilk.

Whoops.

My whoopie pie recipe only calls for a 1/2 cup, so I'm used to never really finishing a full quart of buttermilk in the first place. But I hated the idea of wasting nearly two quarts of buttermilk, so I decided to go on a bit of a rampage.

This week, by the time both quarts expired, I managed to make:

• 1 batch of buttermilk biscuits (very flat)
• 1 batch of mac & cheese (which is not the world's best, but it's sufficient for my lunches)
• 2 batches of scones (fruit, chocolate chip)
• 3 batches of whoopie pies

And I used all but probably a 1/2 cup or so of buttermilk. Not bad. Though if you can use buttermilk a day or two beyond its sell-by day, I may have the chance to make something else this weekend. Then I'm declaring a buttermilk moratorium.

Your pal,

Jill

Threshold Phrases: Useful Warning Device?

Dear Readers,

Yesterday I realized that I've pretty much acquired a threshold phrase, something you say when you've had enough and if you're going to have to deal with much more stupidity, everyone in the general vicinity is going to get it.

Bill Cosby's wife has a threshold phrase, which he describes in one of my favorite Cosby routines, "The Same Thing Happens Every Night":

In the past I often quoted a comedian whose name I can't remember, who said that she was "up to here," ostensibly also holding her hand up to someplace on her body (I usually would signal somewhere around my eyes). "When I'm full, you're in trouble." Or something like that. 

Now it seems like I've developed my own saying. Like many things, it just happened organically, and over the last few months, there have been a few events where it's the only thing I wanted to say. I'd give myself points for creativity, but my phrase unfortunately involves both swears and breaking a Commandment, so I'm not exactly proud. I just thought I'd let you know, in case you happened to be near me if it pops out of my mouth.

My threshold phrase first came up this fall during tournament season. At South Centrals, I started getting sick. I developed a bad cough, so I started taking the Dayquil/Nyquil combination. By Day 3, being a Hackety Ann really started working my nerves, so a mess of tiny things that irritated me became a large pile of nonsense, and if anyone did anything remotely off, I just wanted to snap, "I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD!" and then tell said person how to get it together.

For the record, I didn't really have many problems at South Centrals, so how I came up with this phrase is beyond me. It could've been dealing with things for the tournament that was to come. It could've been a side effect of Dayquil, one of which is possible "excitability," but taking the Lord's name in vain doesn't appear on that list. And speaking of taking the Lord's name in vain, if you consider this action to be lightly throwing His name around, but I reserve this phrase for times of utmost gravitas, am I really breaking a commandment? [Don't answer that.]

I did make it through the tournament without tearing anyone's head off, and then it was on to Indianapolis, where, because my cold wasn't getting better,  I continued with my Dayquil/Nyquil treatment program. In fact, at North Centrals, you could tell which laptop on the dais was mine just by locating the ever-present bottles of diet Coke and Dayquil, both of which I chugged at regular intervals. By this point, I'd long given up using the little plastic cup that came with the cold medicine and figured that self-dosing was a better way to quench the cough.

I'm not going to lie: Heading up a tournament can be a little stressful. Even though North Centrals was pretty organized, problems still cropped up. By the end of Day 2, I was on my 4th printer; I'd had to painstakingly go through paperwork to figure out why an error occurred; and I had had to make some tough staffing decisions. Around 2 AM when I opened up my laptop to finish populating some spreadsheets for the last day's paperwork, I was about out of patience. 

Then I checked my e-mail and had one from the Head Ref of my next tournament. The tournament that was a month away. This e-mail was a response I was cc:'d on that was asking about staffing in terms of a marketing task that had to happen (later I found out this hadn't happened well at North Centrals, which was mostly my fault, but on the other hand, I didn't know I was supposed to do said task in the first place. Still, I'm sure the marketing person was pretty much at a similar threshold point with me).

Anyway, the Head Ref innocently responded that he and I would be working on assignments early in the week and we would have them finalized by the beginning of the next week.

When I read that, I lost it. And I lost it in either the best or worst way possible: By replying to said Head Ref. Early in the next week?! As in day after the tournament?! I was still traveling! I was heading up to the Region to visit the family and wouldn't get back to Boston until extremely late on Wednesday! Not to mention that I was still sick--and had probably contaminated two entire officiating staffs--and all I wanted to do was sleep and not start almost every sentence with, "I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD," illustrated with examples--to apparently prove that I may have been delirious at that point. 

After hitting "send," I shut it down for the night. I was at the point where the spreadsheet cells were swimming in front of my eyes, and I could no longer put numbers in alphabetical order [standard practice: It's kind of like arranging numbers by the Dewey Decimal system, since usually officials say them digit by digit instead of whole number form]. Better to get a little bit of sleep and crank out the paperwork in the morning than to stay up and do it incorrectly.

Come morning, my inbox held a directive:

Deep breath.

Finish the day strong.

We'll make this happen without any major freakouts.

I took the deep breath. And instantly felt better, which was good because right then I was discovering that I would be getting printer #5, so the zen moment helped. But not to the point where I didn't also offhandedly comment to my current Head Ref that I'd like to start every sentence with my threshold phrase. To which he replied that he knew exactly what I meant. Still, we did finish the day strong. And I didn't need to freak out--especially at anyone in particular, so it was a win-win.

One might think this is something I just would use in a roller derby sense, but at Champs, I didn't feel I got to that point. Sure, I had some massive issues with our scoreboard setup, but that was the one big problem of the weekend. One that I probably showed way too much frustration about, but at least I didn't have many other problems that piled onto that to make me want to swear (to fucking God. In all caps). [It may also have helped that Champs has 5 fewer bouts than a Regional and only 2 bouts on the last day vs. 5, so there's not as much to do on Day 3.]

And it's not stress + sickness either, because I've hit my threshold point at the voting polls, and I've been perfectly healthy for both elections I've worked. I've started Election Judging in my town, and while I love this gig, the long day (6:30 AM to ~8:30 PM, depending on how quickly you can close up shop) and the different personalities have a way of quickly breaking me down so that by the end of the night, I can no longer deal with small talk and being in close proximity to a lot of people (I work alone, you know); I can no longer deal with elderly people who may cling to doing a position they can no longer focus on by 6 PM; and I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD, I can't deal with the desire to overstep boundaries in what we can and cannot do in the hour before the polls close if it's not busy.

Last night, after a long day working a poorly attended special election, I explained my threshold phrase to the Boy, mostly as a PSA, which I'm also now telling you. I consider myself a fairly patient person (I can probably get some references, if you'd like), but I'm now aware that even I have a breaking point, and everyone probably needs to be in on what that point is. At least it's one that identifies itself so that we can all prepare for what might happen in case I actually blow.

Your, for the time being, mellow pal,
Jill

How Much Do You Need?

Quote of the day: "As long as you're no longer living in a garage and shitting in a popcorn tin ---- how much money do you fucking need????"


My friend Missy sent me an e-mail complaining about the new stars of "Celebrity Apprentice." Not that she watches the show (though I sometimes do), but she was procrastinating, saw the list and then marveled at how Botoxed and/or Photoshopped everyone looked....and why in the world was Adam Carolla stooping to do this show.


I responded that he probably needed the money to maintain his lifestyle, not to mention his little business venture of having his own broadcast studio.


Missy then responded with the above quote, which has had me chuckling ever since.


Money's been a hot topic around the house lately, since it's time to talk to my accountant. Did I make more money this year over last? Yes, but that's still not saying much in the grand scheme of things. I did make more than my first job out of college, which is progress, though if you think a file clerk racks in the big bucks, you'd be sorely mistaken. 


Still, my business is improving, and I'm fairly content with this year's results, considering the effort I put in. Would I like to make more money? Well, sure. There are a ton of things I want to do and buy, and I need money for them. However, I'm not living in a garage, and I'm not shitting in a popcorn tin, so even though my income isn't the greatest, I think I'm probably doing OK in the grand scheme of things. I would like to not live in an apartment and shit in a low-grade bathroom though, so that means it's time to look for more work. Mr. Trump, are you casting?

While I Was Away

Dear Readers,

Oh, it's been a WHILE, hasn't it?

In my office, I have a shelf next to my desk, and on it I tape pictures and a calendar and other reminders that I need to quickly reference. As I pulled off these three things that I don't need for 2012, I realized they pretty much sum up the last half of 2011:

First off, we have a Field Notes calendar. I love Field Notes (I prefer them to Moleskines), and with one of my orders, they included this handy one-page calendar. It was the perfect calendar when I needed to quickly find a day and date. This year I ordered a special page-a-month Field Notes calendar, which is nice, but I miss the simplicity of the one-pager.

Next, there's a Boston Derby Dames 2011 schedule. Sure, derby occupied a lot of time in 2011, since I served my league as Head NSO (Non-Skating Official) and Officiating Committee Co-Head. Our July bout turned into a 4-bouts-in-3-days spectacular, which meant some extra work. I spent a chunk of that month (and August) catching up on writing NSO evaluations toward WFTDA Certification.

And then I got a few e-mails with regards to the last scrap of paper: The WFTDA Big 5 Tournament schedule. I love tournament season. You get to work with the best of the best officials from all over during a three-day tournament, and it's a great learning experience. With an afterparty. That might or might not involve a mechanical bull.

Last year I did Easterns and Championships, and this year I applied to work Easterns (in Baltimore), North Centrals (my old region, and since it was in Indianapolis, that was close enough for a visit to the parents), and Championships (in Denver). You'll note that these tournaments are all in the fall--well, the application process starts much earlier than that. Officials need to apply by June, they're vetted, and after a couple of months, you find out if you're in.

Tournaments involve a ton of organization and structure, but on the officiating side, the top dog is the Tournament Head Ref (THR), which is an elected position. Each tourney has a THR, and this person selects a Tournament Head NSO (THNSO), 3 Crew Head Referees (CHR), and 3 referee crews. The THNSO staffs the 3 NSO crews.

Near the end of July, I got an invitation to be a CHNSO for Easterns. I was excited because it was a good opportunity to expand my skills and learn some tournament crew management.

The next day, I got an invitation to be the THNSO. For Championships. Championships!

A few days after that, I got an invitation to be the THNSO for North Centrals.

WTF?!! I mean, I know I'm a good NSO and I'm organized and everything, but really? A CH and two THs? It was unbelievable.

And then South Centrals needed some extra NSOs, so I applied for that and got another CH position.

Needless to say, I was busy. Staffing two tournaments kept me up late for probably a week (on top of which, I had a regular home bout to deal with). For August and September, I flip-flopped between dealing with wrapping up the end of my league's season and organizing the two tourneys, both of which involved many more late nights (the Boy was both angry and amazed that I could go to bed at 3 AM and wake up at 7, full of energy). Before I knew it, it was time to travel.

Easterns was good -- my first time as a CH, and I was nervous as all get out. As a CH, you also work a position, and at Easterns I was a Penalty Wrangler, which is a pretty involved position, trying to help Penalty Trackers capture the penalties refs call as quickly as possible. This can be a pretty physical position, and I discovered that I did better if I warmed up before the bout (usually NSOs stand or sit...Wranglers have to move). The final bout was so fast that it just about killed me--it was like I had to do rounds of shuffles for an hour, with a 10 minute break at half time, during which I sat on the ground and sweated profusely.

My crew at Easterns did really well, though I tend to think that's more based on their talent than my leadership. Let's just say it was a massive learning experience for me, one that I really appreciate getting.

The next trip was South Centrals and North Centrals, a two-week trip. I had business in Indy as well, so I flew from Kansas City directly to Indianapolis and worked for the few days between tourneys to produce this article and hang out with this client.

South Centrals was awesome. I had another solid crew, and I did much better as a CH. Sometimes tourneys can be really magical. You never know what will make them that way, but this year South Centrals was pretty magical for me. I met so many great people, and the venue, hotel, and after-tourney food options were within walking distance, which is a massive plus.

That's not to say that the last two tourneys were not good--on the contrary, they were great, but it's different when you're a TH and don't work actual bouts. You prep paperwork, observe, and do general management. This, I happily discovered, is also a great job. It's a lot of work (and I mean, a lot of work), but it's so incredibly rewarding. At North Centrals, NSOs rocked positions in ways I didn't know they could be rocked. At Champs so many NSOs brought their A+ game that my jaw dropped more than once at the quality of work I saw. It inspired me so much [and the amazing thing is that no one notices it -- sure, if an NSO screws up, you notice it, but we blend into the background so much that nobody's looking at the really amazing work we can do].

Anyhow, the tourneys didn't really end in November. Once Champs was over, I still had to write evaluations. 111 of them, which is close to, if not actually the most evals someone was expected to write for tournaments this year. One might think, well why bother? Well, the certification process is important to me, and it's really hard for NSOs to get evaluations, which are an essential component of an application. It took me until after Christmas to finish it all, but I'm done, and now it's on to 2012.

So, what does the new year have in store for me? Well, in terms of work, things are going well, but I need to hustle to make it better. And blog more, of course. I'm no longer my derby league's Officiating Committee Co-Head, but I am now a WFTDA Officiating Clinic Instructor. So much change. It's sometimes it's hard to say good-bye to the old positions [I was pretty sad when Big 5 season ended, which is a nice way of saying I bawled like a baby], but the new doors that are starting to open seem to be really exciting to walk through. I just hope they prove to be that way.

I hope 2011 ended well for you too and that you have good prospects for this year. More soon--and by soon, I don't mean March.

Your pal,
Jill

Internal Gender Wars

Dear Readers,

I hope you've been having a good summer. I'm obviously doing something (work and roller derby would be two good guesses, though I've gotten in some good summer playtime too), since I haven't been posting lately.

My lack of posting could also be the fact that I'm now dealing with a slight case of gender identity. This is something I never thought I'd personally have to consider--I've always been a female, always felt like a female, and have a pretty feminine name that doesn't lend itself to mixups.

However, the other week, I learned otherwise.

I'm blogging over at Avisian publications, this trade magazine group that covers identity and authentication, and biometrics, among other things--if you watch "Burn Notice," and Michael Weston talks about how difficult it is to break into some computer system because you have to have two forms of identity to be able to log into it, that's the kind of thing I'm writing about. For blogging, I generally rewrite press releases and recap news stories. It's interesting, though I'm still struggling to understand some of the technology and how it works.

The other week I had to recap a Washington Post story about fake IDs in which authorities are starting to be able to spot the fakes because they're absolutely perfect. A quote from one of the sources:

"About 89% of genuine driver's licenses don't comply with their own specifications 100%" --Steven Williams of Intellicheck

This led me to whip out my own driver's license, and guess what? The Commonwealth of Massachusetts thinks I'm a man.

Yep. The RMV messed up the gender when inputting my data onto my driver's license.

I've been in this state over a year now, shown my ID a fair amount, and no one's ever noticed. It makes me think that either people just understand that licenses can be inaccurate, or that at my age, all of this security is a bunch of whistles and bells. At least, I hope it is.....I've got to fly a lot this fall, and I don't really need airport security to stop me because of a mistake.

That said, I'm kind of excited to see what life is like as a man. Jill Jaracz: White Male in America. Get ready for the adventures, folks!

Your pal,
Jill

A Horrific Discovery

Dear DVR,

Why is your default recording setting "record 5 episodes"? Don't you realize by now that I (and I would imagine many, many DVR owners) don't tend to watch all of our TV in a reasonable amount of time?

Case in point:

As of this afternoon, I still had a good 20 episodes of Oprah left. I flipped on the DVR because I realized that it was the beginning of July, and to be 2 months behind on a syndicated talk show was not really good form. So during my lunch, I turned on the episode with the Obamas, only to discover that this was also the day after Osama bin Laden had been killed (it's been 2 months, folks! Can you believe it?), which meant that the local news had preempted Oprah to discuss bin Laden (note that Ellen did not get preempted. Who's more powerful in television now?).

No big deal, I thought. I'll just start taping the summer reruns and see if the Obama episode would come back on.

I set the DVR to tape the season and then flipped on the next episode in my queue: Shania Twain. I watched part of it, then went back to work.

Fast forward to this evening, when I want to see why Shania lost her voice. Except that I can't--I've gone from 20 episodes of Oprah in my queue to 5.


Say what?


Oh yeah. If you want to record a TV series with my DVR, the default setting is "keep the 5 most recent episodes." When Oprah recorded this afternoon, it started the Oprah cycle all over again.

In a sense, it's not a shame -- I should've kept up a little bit better -- but it's a sign that I probably shouldn't watch so much TV. Still, it's the final few episodes (20's a few, right?!), and it's fun to watch the end of an era.  I guess I'll just have to see what else I can catch this summer on reruns or through the Oprah: Behind the Scenes show (you're watching it, right?!  It's excellent!  I love seeing how shows get put together!)

Anyway, I've certainly gotten today's lesson on checking and doublechecking. Whenever I'll learn that lesson is a different story.

Your pal,
Jill

There She Is--on the Podcast

Dear Readers,

This is a couple weeks old, but it's pretty cool.  I'm one of the "tens of listeners" to the TBTL podcast, which is basically 2-3 people (Luke Burbank, Jen "Flash" Andrews and Sean DeTore...Sean isn't there every day) talking about what's going on in the news/media.  It can get a little navel-gazing, but then, so can I. [and let's face, don't we really like people who are a lot like us?]

Anyhow, I was listening to one of their podcasts where they were discussing the outgoing Miss USA and mentioned that they didn't know the difference between Miss America and Miss USA.  This, of course, is nearly blasphemous to me, since as a child and teenager, my friends I would religiously watch Miss America (Miss USA is not nearly as exciting -- the talent competition makes the pageant).

I had to write in:

Hey Luke and Jen,

I'm a few days behind, but I felt the need to write to tell you the important differences between Miss USA and Miss America (especially since we're going to be blessed with a new Miss USA soon):

Miss USA

• Owned by Donald Trump
• Winner goes to Miss Universe
• Pageant is based on "fitness" -- competitors have to do evening gown, swimsuit, and interview
• Miss Teen USA is the little sister pageant of Miss USA (much like Barbie's little sister Skipper)

Miss America

• Pageant is for SCHOLARSHIPS.  This is super-important!  Miss America gives out a bunch of money for scholarships, which, you know, legitimizes it.  
• Contestants have to have a platform, and Miss America is expected to do events around her platform for the year (whereas apparently Miss USA's platform was a levitating bed by a pool in Vegas....or whatever Luke said)
• Contestants compete in evening gown, bathing suit, and TALENT. This is also another HUGE difference--and that's when you learn that if you're beautiful but don't have any well-defined talent (concert pianist, deaf ballet dancer), you sing.

I realize this isn't life or death information, but I felt the need to set the record straight.  I'm no pageant girl, but I have a soft spot in my heart for them.  I mean, when you were in high school and couldn't yet drive, didn't you get together with your friends and eat junk food while watching Miss America?

Have a good weekend!

Jill

*****

Their response?

we read this on the show today

hope you enjoy

Jen

****

And by "read on the show," they meant "this was an entire segment."  Take a listen!

More audio at MyNorthwest.com

Your pal (aka the Educator),

Jill

Lazy Summer Days (Not Happening Here)

Dear Readers,

The number of times I've been posting here has been abominable to say the least. I have tons of excuses:

• No ideas 
• Feeling down
• Too busy wallowing to blog
• Roller derby's taking up my time
• Oh wait, I meant online mah-jongg's taking up my time
• Busy doing paid work (I realize you have to look at a lot of Google ads when you read this blog, but those don't pay the bills. I think I've racked up nearly $18 over the life of this blog)

Anyway, these excuses have to go. I've been wallowing way too much in, "How did that person get a book deal?" (while I don't work on the mess that is my novel -- remember that?  The rough draft that I finished in November?  Yeah) or, "How come I don't have more publishing credits?" (Answer: I don't put myself out there enough)

I don't quite know why I let myself get into these cycles, but it's not good because it's slowing me down. Watch for a lot of bad writing to hit this space (or maybe you should be the judge of that) -- I need to test out some creativity and get myself back into practice.

A few weeks ago, I wanted to write more about my trip to Las Vegas, but I didn't want to do it in a travelogue sort of way. I thought about it and came up with a piece that ended up being accepted by a really sweet outlet (it's not published yet, but when it is, you will definitely hear about it). I had such a good time writing it too -- sometimes when I feel like I'm really on with my writing, I feel totally giddy. I need to have that feeling more often because it's so satisfying to be able to work in a way that makes you feel great.

Anyway, enough with the bitching (for the umpteenth time), and on with the writing. I'm not promising any great shakes here, but I appreciate you being along for the ride!

Your pal,

Jill

P.S. -- Did you like the homage to titles with parentheses?

Growing Older, Not Getting Older

Dear Readers,

I've had a couple of assignments writing about senior citizens, Baby Boomers, and exercise.  Pair that with doing summer biathlons that are organized by a 75-year-old, and I've been thinking a lot about getting old.

I don't want to.

The research I've had to do for the exercise articles really makes me want to work out.  Exercise does all sorts of good things for you, like protecting your bones and helping you with balance.  After reading about exercise helping to combat falls more than a few times, I was sold.  The idea of falling and breaking a hip just does not appeal (not that it really appeals to anyone, but if being stronger gives me a better chance, well, then I'm doing another set of squats).

Finding out how old our biathlon organizer is was another wake-up call.  Dude's 75 and acts like he's in his early 60's, if not younger (the white hair ages him).  Every time we go to a biathlon, he talks about different shoots he wants to organize and different instructional schools he helps out with.  He just doesn't slow down.

I want that kind of life--one where I'm jetting off to the other side of the world in my 80's.  One where I'm 96 and contemplating giving up my driver's license.  One where I'm 105 and talking about my secret to longevity being regular walks, some light weightlifting, eating reasonable quantities of bacon, and enjoying my daily gin (or beer).  Doesn't that sound like the life?

Your pal,
Jill

Vegas, Baby.

Dear Readers,

I've fully recovered from my trip to Vegas over Memorial Day weekend.  Sadly, it wasn't because I had wild time--it's just that my flight out there was delayed, and instead of landing at 10PM local time, I got in around 4:30AM local time.

I flew from Boston to JFK where flights were delayed due to weather west of us (this was not long after the Joplin, MO, tornado, so needless to say, heavy weather was not something anyone wanted to deal with).  We got on the plane, we taxied a bit, but then we hit that FAA rule that says you can't be on the tarmac for more than three hours, so we headed back to the gate.  Waited some more.  Had to get more fuel.  Around 11:30 PM, we finally pushed off, and after a bit of taxiing, heard some words you never want to hear from your pilot:  We're 40th in line for take-off.

40th in line means you taxi for another hour.

I only got a couple of hours of real sleep that night, and acted like a zombie for a good chunk of the first morning.  Plus, like many conferences, you're so busy doing stuff, that you really don't get enough sleep the entire time you're there.  Having a bad start to the weekend didn't help.

The conference itself was great.  I learned a ton and met a lot of people.  Vegas, on the other hand, wasn't so great.  I know Vegas is supposed to be all cool and exciting, but it's really overwhelming, and if you don't really love Vegas--or you're with a group of people who don't really like Vegas--you're in a horrible place.  Enormous gaudy casinos.  Lights and noise.  Girls walking around in the shortest dresses you've ever seen.  Pools that don't stay open--I'm serious about this.  Our hotel's pool stayed open until either 7 or 8PM.  We saw pools that were closed by 6PM.  When you're at a conference, there's simply no time for hanging out by the pool, and when you can't participate in one of the major draws, it's a big letdown.

Instead, friends and I wandered around the Strip, gawking, and not gambling. Yeah, I didn't bother--even with the penny slots that were in our hotel.  The fear of losing what little money I did have outweighed the possibility of winning a couple of bucks.  I did spend crazy amounts of money on other things--I bought some bulk candy that was something like $12.99/pound -- I about fell over when my small bag cost over $9.  But then, I didn't have to learn the hard way that this same store sold $25 lollipops.

Cheap buffets?  Where?  My friends and I tried to go to the Wynn buffet because the vegan among us heard they had vegan options.  They did--but the buffet was $45.  No, thank you.  On our last day, we broke down and had the hotel buffet for lunch ($17).  The unlimited bubbly was a bonus, but I don't think there was enough of it to make me eat the worst bacon I've ever tasted in my life--and that's when you think that $17 was a little too much money for a buffet.

Needless to say, I don't feel the urge to go back anytime soon.  Not even on a hot day when I've got nothing to do but lounge by the pool--because at some point I'd still have to experience everything I don't like about Vegas.  In my book, what happens in Vegas can stay there--because it's not quite worth writing home about.  Or is it?  You tell me.

Your pal,
Jill

Actually Online

Dear Readers,

In the unknown amount of time I have on my home internet connection today, I'd like to, in the words of the great Jen "Flash" Andrews, "clean out my closet" a little bit.

1. My lousy internet connection.  I never got a chance to send my choice words to Verizon because my connection went out again.  We got our new set of filters late Monday, and everything was going swimmingly....until Tuesday morning, when our connection was down again.  I spent a nice chunk of time on the phone with Verizon, and we couldn't get it to work, even if just the modem cable was plugged directly into the phone jack.  Something is obviously really wrong, so a technician needs to come out--but no one's available until tomorrow morning (and Thursday is really not a good day for me to have a repairman at my house, since I'll be heading to Las Vegas for the WFTDA Conference).  After I hung up with Verizon, I tried the connection one more time, and it worked (of course)---for all of 3 hours, and then I was kicked off without warning.  No more internet for us...until this morning.  When I went to check on our connection, it was back.  I assume it will go away again at some point in the near future.  
2. What I can't do online is download podcasts AND surf the web at the same time.  Downloads really suck all the bandwidth.  Forget trying to watch a video.  And a typical 1 hour podcast takes a long time to load--probably a good 15 minutes.  I mean, I'm trying to download a podcast now, and it's saying about 40 minutes.  That's not quite accurate, but you get the picture.  If I'm trying to download more than one, watch out!  There's nothing quite as scary as seeing "8 hours" when you're trying to download a 55 MB file.  It's as if I'm on a dial-up 28.8 modem.  Anyway, I'm running low on my podcasts and I need to stock up.  It'd be nice to do that before I leave.
3. Cleaning house.  Since I have the Verizon guy coming over tomorrow, I have to clean up my office, which frankly, hasn't seen a duster or a broom in months.  This will not be pleasant.  I also have stacks of books all over the place, since one of my bookshelves is starting to pull out of a wall.  Magazines have also apparently come here to die, though I like to call them my "sample issue collection." So what if they're in piles, right?  They're research!
4. Vegas!  Yep, I'm heading to Las Vegas for my first WFTDA Conference.  I'm excited to see old friends, make new ones, and talk roller derby for a weekend.  I haven't been to Vegas since 1993, and I've heard it's changed a little bit.  I don't know what I'm in for, but I hope it'll be a good time.

That's about it from here....it's been quite the week in terms of not being able to work, and I'm getting tired of that frustration.  Hopefully next week will be a bit easier.

Your pal,

Jill

The Karmic Merry-Go-Round

Dear Readers,

Call it karma, call it the Golden Rule--no matter how you slice it, what goes around comes around.  Seems like I've been on a karmic merry-go-round the last few days.

After my little post mocking the Boy and his low glycemic lunch, I got my own come-uppance that night.  The Boy and I have different pillows--mine is soft and squishy (and super comfortable), and the Boy's is thinner and not so comfortable--in my mind, and perhaps the Boy's, because he likes to swap pillows every once in a while and stick me with the lousy one.

That evening, I was trying to fall asleep, and my pillow just didn't feel right.  I tried to sneakily determine whether or not it was mine--I ran my hand between the pillow and pillowcase to feel the stitching, and I was just about to spring an A-HA on the Boy when he asked what the heck I was doing.  I admitted I thought he stole my pillow, and to show me, he quickly swapped them out.  I was wrong---and was stuck with a crappy pillow and a case of mocking.

Great.  Serves me right.

But then I was absolved!  The next morning, the Boy missed the commuter train, so I had to drive him 40 minutes to work.  It was a lovely day, so on the way home I stopped for a walk in the woods, and I stopped at a nursery to get some herb plants.

As I was paying for my plants, my phone rang.  It was the Boy, saying he'd forgotten his work laptop at home.  Oops.  I dashed home, grabbed the laptop, and headed back out to his office.  And I didn't even say anything--I mean, what am I going to say that's going to make him feel worse than he already did?  It was a nice day for driving, and I got to catch up on my podcasts.  No big deal.

I think that makes us even now.  At least I hope so!

Your pal,
Jill